Deleted Scenes
by Thessilian
Summary: A number of scenes that live within the universe of my main Mass Effect story 'If You Need Me', Garrus & Shepard pairing. From varying points of view, depending on the chapter. Not necessarily in chronological order.
1. Chapter 1 Sniping

**Sniping**

Zaeed hasn't been to Tuchanka in years, but he hasn't missed the shithole. Dust swirls around his face as he heads up the slope, the air frosty from a lack of sunlight. Nuclear winters will do that to a planet.

Garrus plods beside him, long legs and strange feet taking in the uneven terrain easily. He's been silent since leaving the commander with the krogan clan leader, Wrex.

They've been walking for over ten minutes, looking for a gap in the hills that the Chief Scout described to them – one with a perfect view over a valley of pyjaks. Just what the two men need for their sniping competition.

Zaeed's not even sure why he agreed to it. He'd been sitting with Garrus, drinking and jawing about old times, and he'd told the story of the 'magic bullet' – how he'd lined up three bad guys in a row and taken them all down with one shot. When Garrus had joked that the 'old' bounty hunter's sniping skills weren't up to it anymore, Zaeed had thrown down the gauntlet to the younger turian.

But Garrus had been born with a rifle; he lives and breathes with it in his hands. It's about the only thing he caresses as much as his woman, Shepard.

Zaeed chews on the end of his cigar. The goddamned commander of a humanity-first Cerberus vessel, and she's humping a _turian_. Not that Zaeed cares; he's never been one to turn down new experiences. Hell, the last woman he cared about was an asari; 'til she shot him in the back, anyway.

"Here," Garrus rumbles, moving to a dip in the rocks to the right. "Pyjak central. Can see the route straight to the krogan food sources. No wonder their supplies are so low."

Both men set up, lying low to the ground as they brace the long-nosed guns. Zaeed takes his time, settling his elbows, lining up the scope.

"What are the rules, anyway? First to fifty?" Garrus is peering down his scope at the grey skinned creatures as they leap about, oblivious to their impending doom.

Zaeed isn't sure what planet the vermin were originally a native of, or if their natural predator has died out, but they're causing havoc on Tuchanka. Breeding faster than nature can constrain, they plough through food sources like a biblical plague of locusts. "How about we take a shot each, loverboy? First one to miss loses?"

"Sounds good." Garrus barely moves, his rifle cracking, and a small bundle falls over. "Just so you know, _old man_, I never miss."

"Hah, I ain't _that_ old," Zaeed breathes out as he pulls the trigger, catching a pyjak mid-leap. "And I'm telling you, women _love_ this face." He watches Garrus take down another one of the pests. "If I'd met Shepard first, well, long story short, you wouldn't have stood a chance, boy."

Garrus laughs at that, a melodious noise as it reverberates in his deep chest. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, old man. Anyway, the rumour is that a certain bald biotic wants to... knock boobs with you."

Zaeed jerks a millimetre as he shoots, still hitting the grey vermin by a hair. The bounty hunter narrows his eyes at the turian; he's glued to his scope, but his mandibles are twitching as he laughs. Bastard. That's how he's playing is it?

"I've already told Jack I'm not interested. Can't help having so much sex appeal that they're queuing up." Zaeed watches the turian line up a perfect shot, taking out two pyjaks with one bullet. "Only counts as one hit." Zaeed drawls.

"Fine by me, I'll still win," Garrus rumbles, his eye affixed to the scope. "How come you've not left, anyway? Cerberus can't be paying you anymore."

"Nah, there's no money involved, but it's not like I need any. Got a good nest egg already. I'm staying because of our deal. You promised me Vido if I helped you save the galaxy." Zaeed takes his shot, aiming for two of the creatures. One jumps just before the bullet hits, but he still takes the second one down.

"Nice try," Garrus murmurs as he shifts his rifle almost imperceptibly. "And also true about Vido. Remind me when we're on the ship - I'll get Lawson to do something useful and track him down."

"Staring at her arse, that's the only use I've found for her so far. Maybe her boobs when she gets really mad and crosses her arms," Zaeed drawls as Garrus takes his shot. He watches the turian snicker, mandibles moving as he laughs, but the shot is perfect and a grey bundle falls to the ground.

"Wouldn't know, humans do nothing for me," Garrus lifts his head from his rifle, his tiny dinosaur eyes unblinking. Zaeed looks for a trace of humour, but the turian seems serious.

"You're telling me that you're humping the hottest goddamned woman I've met in a long time, and you don't even like _humans_?" Zaeed is incredulous.

"I'm pretty sure Shepard isn't lining up to date every other turian she's ever met, either," Garrus lowers his eyes to his scope again. "Your turn."

Zaeed shifts his aim and takes out a pyjak in one movement, returning to the conversation. "What if it's just _aliens_ she likes? She's tried out humans, turians and what – you've left her with that Urdnot clan leader. He looked pretty impressive, she's bound to be getting busy with him while we're out here."

"No way - shows how little you know Shepard," Garrus takes another shot, completely unruffled.

"Are you sure? Have you _looked_ at your krogan friend recently?" Zaeed takes out another pyjak. "Goddamn leader of all the krogans, that's some power. Power gets women hot. Plus he's the biggest krogan I've seen in a long time, I shit you not. The size of his crest alone..."

"Sounds like you're the one wanting to hump him," Garrus snaps as he lines up his sights and fires.

Zaeed conceals his grin, looking down his scope as he murmurs. "Well, she's tried one alien out; maybe it's got her hot to try another one." He pulls the trigger, watching his target fall over. "Maybe she's heard the rumours of their four balls, two dicks. Some women are into that kind of thing."

It's a tiny movement, an adjustment as he takes the shot, but Zaeed realises Garrus was close to missing.

"You're just envious. Hottest woman you've met, did you say?" Garrus growls.

"Hell of a woman," Zaeed agrees, killing a pyjak with minimal effort to further annoy the turian.

"And yet she's with me," Garrus lines up to take his shot and his face relaxes.

Zaeed leans a little closer, lowering his voice. "Nah, I'm not envious. You know why? Because every time I close my eyes and use my hand, it's Shepard I'm with anyhow."

There's a puff of dust, but the pyjak leaps away, unharmed. Garrus doesn't look up from his scope and Zaeed can't contain his guffaws. He takes a final shot, nailing one right between the eyes, just to rub salt into the wound.

Sitting up, Zaeed slaps his thigh, pleased at how well he can read Garrus now. The turian is highly pissed off, not at the Shepard comment, but because he missed. Zaeed pushes himself to his feet, popping his finger joints as he bends to retrieve his gun.

In one fluid movement, Garrus is standing, facing him, millimetres away. This close up, the turian towers over him, his predatory eyes furious as he looms even closer, sharp teeth bared.

"Yeah, I can relate - remember, I'm with Shepard _every single night. _With my eyes open." Garrus shoulders his rifle, before turning and moving off down the hillside.

The hell of it all is that Zaeed knows he's right. "He really is a lucky bastard."


	2. Chapter 2 And the joke is on

**And the joke is on...**

It had been easier, before…

She had been a _beautiful_ ship, best the Alliance had, filled with his friends as they fought to save the galaxy. What more could anyone ask for? Okay, not everything had gone smoothly _all_ the time, and of course everyone had missed Ash, but she'd been proud to die to save the lives of so many, to help stop Saren. Considering they'd gone on to take down not only Saren and his geth, but Sovereign too, it had been a resounding victory.

Not that you'd know it now.

Sitting to the left, far enough away to be out of earshot, Kaidan is leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he stares unseeing at the ground. His face is crumpled, tears coursing unashamedly down his cheeks. Liara is next to him, arm draped across his shoulders; the asari looks almost as heartbroken as Kaidan, confirming the scuttlebutt around the ship about her gender preferences.

Kaidan is best avoided at the moment, anyway. The last time they'd met, the lieutenant had been pretty physical in his disapproval. Even with crutches and bandaged limbs staring Kaidan in the face, it had taken two people to drag the angry biotic away.

Off to the right, Garrus is standing with Wrex at the edge of the park. It's obvious that most of the crowd have no idea who they are or why they're here, but neither of the aliens care. _They_ know. To an outsider, Wrex looks as cold-hearted as ever, but Garrus… It seems the expression of pain translates pretty well across the human/turian divide. It's hard to even look at him.

Anderson is speaking at the front, magnificent in full dress uniform. He's holding the crowd's attention as he talks. And it's a big crowd. All the top brass, all the Citadel bigwigs, everyone who is anyone in the galaxy is here. It's not an occasion to miss.

But there are only strangers left in his immediate vicinity, Doctor Chakwas having excused herself earlier, shaking her head, eyes brimming with tears.

"It's not right," she'd complained as she left. "Who _are_ all these people, anyway? She wouldn't… Nobody wants this circus."

The event has a strange atmosphere, almost a party, but not quite. Bunting and flags and copious amounts of food of the levo and dextro types, clearly labelled to avoid anaphylaxis problems. Alcohol flows freely, waiters circulating with silver trays held high, champagne flutes trembling as a background dirge plays over the speakers.

It's cool, for the Citadel. The park they've chosen has a wide open expanse next to the river, yet even under the artificial sunlight, it's too cold for comfort. But it seems fitting, suited for the day; thick coats and hats and scarves. The plants think it's autumn, red leaved trees and curling ferns. At least the foliage is familiar.

But the thing, the _thing_ he can't look at, the thing scored with Garrus' talon marks - that's not familiar. It's not a huge thing, not compared to the size of the gathering, yet it still dominates the area. It's made of a dark wood, adorned with brass handles. Tasteful, the murmurs have declared it, elegant.

Kaidan can't look at it; Garrus can't look away.

A wooden box that's changed everything.

The wooden box that is all _his _fault.

It had been easier, before she died.


	3. Chapter 3 Control Freak

**Control Freak**

So he's a control freak? Who wouldn't be, with his background? The last time he let go, he killed someone. Kaidan has held on to control for so long that he's almost forgotten what it was like, to let go, to let everything out.

In his dreams though, he's unfettered; he allows himself to love wildly, to hate passionately and to dream without limits. But in reality, he never loosens the reins.

Then they come.

He'd been assigned to Horizon to help the colonists, Anderson making it clear that his real mission was to investigate the rumours about Cerberus. The scuttlebutt ranged from possible – the disappearance of whole colonies, to the absurd – they'd stolen the humans in their bid to create eternal life. Kaidan had quashed his misgivings, trusting Anderson to send him where he was needed, but the job seems hopeless; resentful civilians and no sign of Cerberus.

And then _they_ come.

He draws his gun, using the scope to examine the ship descending towards them. Nothing he is familiar with, although a distant memory tugs at his mind. Swarms of insects roar from the ship, surrounding him, attacking the colonists, his local contact Lilith. A woman screams – he hears her - his natural instinct to protect causing him to look for an enemy he can fight. But there's nothing, just circling insects that bite, multitudes of them nipping his exposed flesh and through his mesh undersuit, piercing his skin to deliver some kind of toxin.

Kaidan is paralysed, unable to move but still completely aware as aliens – _collectors_ he thinks – pace through the settlement on their long legs. He can do nothing but stare in mute horror as all around him people are stuffed into pods and then shipped away. It's a nightmare, the thing he's here to investigate and he's helpless, unable to stop it, unable to warn the council.

A collector pauses near him, a floating pod bouncing against Kaidan's chest before stopping. The creature bends down, hands outstretched to scoop him up, when a burst of gunfire is audible in the distance. With a hiss, the collector drops into a fighting stance, gun drawn. It lopes away, followed by its colleagues, towards the sound of fighting.

Kaidan tries to move, but the toxin is holding him firm. He's barely able to breathe, his body forcing his lungs to scoop shallow snatches of air. Closing his eyes, he thinks back to brain camp, back to when Vyrnnus had held him in a stasis field, his own biotics damped down. The turian had goaded and mocked him in front of his friends, in front of Rahna, showing him how powerless he was. But he'd found a way, concentrated on the cells of his body, forcing the biotic energy to pour out of him and break through.

Kaidan concentrates like that again, mentally blanking the sound of gunfire in the distance. He focuses on his body, something he's almost forgotten how to do since he's thrown himself into his work for the last two years in a vain attempt to forget _her_.

The thought interrupts him, the memories of Shepard breaking his concentration; her shouting at the Council; her dejected on the floor, head in hands; one of her rare smiles as she lay curled next to him in bed. They'd spent so long in each others company that somehow the barriers they'd both erected had tumbled down and they'd fallen helplessly in love.

Fury builds then. Fury at himself, for pathetically clinging to the love of a woman long dead. Fury at Joker, for refusing to leave the ship. Fury at the Alliance, for covering her up, keeping her investigations confidential, implying that she was _insane_. And fury at her for dying, for leaving him just when he'd finally gotten through to her. That night before Ilos, she'd told him how she'd never let anyone close, never trusted anyone. Sex was just sex to her, until she'd met him. He'd opened up to her, allowed himself to truly feel again for the first time in years. Then she was _gone_.

His rage builds, all vestiges of self-control lost as he thinks of the past, of all the things lost to them both. He'd promised to walk through her favourite park on Earth, she'd promised to try some of his cooking. Visiting his family, meeting her friends. So many promises, whispered in the dark; worthless now.

Kaidan is so angry he's barely aware of the biotic sparks covering his body, the loosening of his muscles as the toxins are flushed from his system. It's only when his hands begin to twitch and spasm that he pushes down on his feelings, forces them back to build up the charge rippling along his skin.

Soon he's able to move, even though every muscle aches with exhaustion, limbs shaking as he sits up. All around him people lie paralysed, but many more are missing. He can still hear gunfire, though, and the collectors' ship is hanging low in the sky, unmoving.

Rubbing his arms vigorously, trying to compel life back into them, he is stumbling towards the fighting when a weapon cuts across the sky, slamming into the ship.

The defensive towers. Someone's got them working. Kaidan is intrigued as to who could have done that so quickly. He forces himself into a shambling run, watching as the ship beings to react as it's fired upon again.

One hand trailing along the wall for balance, he looks up as he jogs, watching the people he is supposed to protect being kidnapped in front of him. The towers fire again, but it's futile - the collectors' are gone.

Stumbling onwards, he hears voices - human he thinks - and he veers towards them, his body screaming at him to rest. But there are times that his self control helps and this is one of them.

As he turns the corner, he hears a voice ring out and he stops, unable to draw a breath. He can hardly process what he's heard, when a familiar turian rumbles a response and he knows he's not dreaming, that this is real, that the crazy conspiracy theories are _true_.

Shepard's alive.

She never died.

She's _here_.

Conflicting emotions tear through him. He wants to shout with joy and grab her in his arms, never letting her leave him again, while at the same time he wants to shake her, hurt her, scream at her for lying to him, for breaking his heart so casually.

"Shepard?" Kaidan recognises the voice; it's one of the mechanics, Delan. "I know that name; you're some type of big Alliance hero."

Kaidan walks out from behind the building, trying to hold himself steady, but his limbs are still sore. "Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy. The first human spectre. Saviour of the Citadel. You're in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost."

There are four people standing there, alien corpses scattered all around, but he only has eyes for one as he closes the distance between them.

"I thought you were dead Shepard, we all did." Kaidan says, stopping in front of her.

She looks different, her body leaner, her hair shorter. There are scars on her cheeks, but they barely distract from her beauty. She opens her mouth to speak, but he can't talk, not now, so he pulls her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent.

He's dreamed of this so many times, that she wasn't really dead, that she was on a top secret mission, that she was waiting for him, that she still _cared_. Those dreams of their closeness turning into nightmares when he would wake, cold and alone, and remember that she was gone.

It _is_ Shepard. The way she presses against him, even with both of them in full armour, it's something he'll never forget. He can feel her shape against his, how her hips curl close, her face against his neck. The softness of her hair brushing his cheek, the jasmine shampoo she favours, her sigh as she hugs him back. It feels good, natural. He never thought he'd see her, smell her, touch her ever again.

Too quickly they pull apart. She takes a step back and the illusion is gone.

She opens her mouth to speak just as he notices the Cerberus logo on one of her followers' uniform. The final conspiracy theory, proven. The one he'd found the most ridiculous. Shepard? Faking her own death to work for a terrorist organisation? He'd laughed loudest, shaking his head in dismay at the insane things people believed.

And yet, here she stands, asking how he is, as if nothing is wrong, nothing has changed.

That's when he loses control for the final time that day.


	4. Chapter 4 Squeaky Wheel

**Squeaky Wheel!**

It's dark when he wakes, just how he likes it. The world is cool, the sky a dull grey as he yawns and stretches. Stumbling out of his soft bed, he stops and scratches his ear with rapid movements of his hind leg. Sitting up straight, he looks around and rubs both front paws over his nose sleepily. Convinced that all is well in the world, he heads towards the silver food hole.

Grabbing onto the rim, he hauls his body over the edge, nose sniffing the air. Filled to the brim as always, he rummages through the dried vegetables to find his favourite; a stash of black and white seeds at the bottom.

Grabbing one, he nibbles around the edge, spinning the seed as he gnaws through the hard outer shell to the soft, juicy insides. He chews, letting the delicate flavour spread across his tongue. A few more bites and it's gone.

Satisfied for now, he sits up to wash his hands, rubbing them across his cheeks and nose to check for crumbs. Once clean, he eyes his territory, secured by the clear, hard not-sky.

He scurries across the soft floor to the _Thing_. A giant wheel; the Predator brought it a few nights ago. Tall, day-sky coloured with a giant silver frame, the wheel is life. He hadn't been sure at first - it had smelled like death, the Predator's scent marking it. That first night he'd inspected it, the Predator watching him, mouth open, sharp teeth exposed and mandibles twitching. He'd not gone too close to it right away, not sure why the Predator wanted him to use it. Eventually, it had left to go mate with the female, like most nights, so he'd stepped gingerly onto the wheel. That's when he'd understood the true beauty of the thing.

He rubs himself across the frame, sliding his hips to mark his scent. This is _his_ wheel now, he owns it.

He stands on his hind legs, performing a nimble leap onto the rungs. The wheel sways a little and he feels excitement pounding through him. Tilting his head back, he starts to move.

This is what he lives for: the world flying under his feet, his heart racing in his chest. Running as fast as he can, the wheel sways and squeaks, rattling against the silver frame.

He loses himself in the moment, unaware of time passing until the sky instantly turns bright. With a squeak, he stops, the wheel coming to rest with a slight sway.

He sniffs, trying to understand the change. The air is reassuring, carrying only the scents of the world, flowers, sweat and the female. Then he gets a whiff of _it_ and he's startled.

Rearing back onto his hind legs, he peers out at the world, his front paws tucked tight against his belly and his ears up. He stays still, surveying his surroundings. Fight or flee? That smell says flee, but he waits.

Then they arrive, chewing on each other as always. The female is making that noise she's been doing recently as the Predator rips at her. He listens to the thumps as her brightly coloured hide drops from her, leaving her a pink colour, shivering. The Predator claws at himself, his day-sky hide falling to the floor.

Mating again, he thinks, watching them. She'd been alone when he'd first arrived here. The Predator had visited, giving him food, letting him out, but it hadn't stayed. Now, most of his nights are interrupted by their long, vigorous mating routines.

He stays frozen, watching as they claw and grope at each other. He's never been attacked so far, but his instinct forces him to watch and wait. To be safe.

She makes that noise again and runs past him, the wall shifting as she moves towards it, revealing the damp part of the world. They spend a lot of time in the damp place now, the warm, wet air leaking out, causing the walls of his own territory to run with rivulets of condensation.

He hears the thrumming of the rain and relaxes back, sitting on his haunches. Safe, at least for a while. He drops onto all fours, moving slowly, the wheel rattling as he runs. Soon he's built up to full speed, his heart singing as he flies.

There's a thud, and his world shakes, the floor beneath his feet unstable. He almost falls off his wheel, but manages to steady himself. Waiting, the wheel swaying gently, he feels the world tremble again, then again, in an ever increasing rhythm. It seems to go on forever, but the light doesn't change in the sky, so he's not sure how long he waits. Even over the sound of rain, he finally hears the Predator roaring and he shivers.

They stumble past then, the Predator holding onto the female, and he smells blood. It's bitten her again; it seems to feed off her while they mate. He's not sure why she lets it, but she does, over and over again, each night. They pass from view, down to their sleeping hole, and it goes quiet.

Dropping to all fours, he clambers out of his wheel and runs across his area to the food hole. He grabs as much as he can, stuffing in seeds, throwing aside the dried vegetables. He's got one cheek fully packed when he hears a noise. It's coming. Sharp claws on the hard ground, it pauses outside his territory.

A shadow passes over him and he can't move, frozen as two day-sky eyes peer in at him. It bares its teeth, mandibles fluttering, strange noises coming from its throat.

Its claws move, one set taking away the not-sky and the other sliding towards him. This is it, he realises, it has finally decided to eat him. Biting the female isn't enough, the predator is here to finish on him. He squeaks, dropping a seed as the claws close around his body, lifting him up.

He sways through the air, to be brought in front of the Predator's face. Its eyes blink at him, its mouth still open, he can just smell her blood on its breath. He wishes he'd had time to finish his seeds - he does so love the stripy ones.

The hand moves him closer to the Predator's face; he can feel the air moving as its mandibles shift. He wants to close his eyes, to try and hide from what's happening, but he can't, he's frozen.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Predator's other hand, moving in closer. It's holding something long, and orange. He twitches his nose. It smells _good_. He shifts slightly, turning as the orange thing is pushed forward.

He stretches his head and sniffs, then reaches out with both paws to grasp it, pulling it close. Fresh vegetable. Delicious.

As he nibbles on it, a vague memory tugs at his mind, that perhaps the Predator has done this before. Even though it smells of death, it tries to be kind. He ignores the thought as unimportant right now, concentrating on gnawing as fast as he can.

He's lowered back into his area, the Predator replacing the not-sky and backing away, its day-sky eyes watching as he demolishes the food. Tucking the remainder in his cheek, he barely notices as the female appears by the Predator's side.

He's inside his house, considering finishing the last bit of the treat, when there's a hard bang. His little house shakes, the soft bedding spilling out of the door. Peeking out to retrieve his bedding, he sees them.

They're chewing on each other's faces again; she's got her back to him, the Predator so tight up to her body that she's hitting against his floor with her shoulders. With a dismayed squeak, he scurries back inside and curls into a ball, closing his eyes. He knows that if he waits, they will stop.

_Eventually_.


	5. Chapter 5 A turian walks into a bar

**A turian walks into a bar...**

He's seen things most people wouldn't believe; Geth ships on fire off the Skyway of Zhu's Hope, c-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhauser relay. All of those moments, lost in time... the way the things in front of him right now should be.

Joker drops his face into his palms for the fifth time that evening, but it's too late, the sight is forever branded into his retinas.

They're all gathered in the port observation bar, the drink has been flowing all night and there's a loud buzz in the room. Just about everyone is present, enjoying some downtime while EDI keeps an eye on the ship.

Once Joker had found out about the bar, he'd had the perfect idea to christen it and gotten the AI to unseal the room.

A talent show! Everyone can have a go, with a three minute time limit to keep it moving. Plus - free food and booze. Lots and _lots_ of _free_ booze. Joker knows how to throw a party, right? The 'We Who Are About to Die' banner above the stage really _sets_ the atmosphere.

I mean, this _was_ my idea, he thinks, as he stares in horror at the makeshift stage. I just... never expected _this_.

Dancing unsteadily, the victim of too much alcohol, Grunt has stripped off his upper armour and is warbling out a love song while rhythmically thrusting his hips backwards and forwards – noticeably _not_ in time to the music.

"Bloody teenagers," Zaeed drawls in Joker's ear, filling the air with an aromatic cloud of cigar smoke. "Two pints and they're anybody's."

Joker coughs, waving his hand in front of his face, wafting the vapours away. Zaeed just laughs, leaning back in his seat with his legs crossed and draws another mouthful of fumes.

Joker looks back at the stage in time to see one final bump and grind from Grunt, as the krogan points a finger at Samara and winks.

There's a moment of silence as the music trails off, then Shepard begins to clap politely. A few people join in, watching the young krogan stumbling off the stage towards the justicar.

Samara doesn't move as the drunken youngster stumbles towards her, a strange leer on his face. She's sitting at the corner of the stage, next to Mordin, her hands clasped on her lap.

Mordin stands up, his skinny knees trembling as he holds up an outstretched hand. Grunt stops, wobbling a little as he bends over slowly and peers down at the salarian.

"Move?" Grunt burps after he speaks, swaying in huge, wobbling circles.

"No, illogical request. Krogan consumed copious amounts. Must… ah… _protect_ Samara..." Mordin speaks even more quickly than usual, his nervousness obvious.

Joker snickers to himself, wondering what Mordin thinks he can do to stop _Grunt_.

"I am krogan!" Grunt roars, almost tipping over backwards as he pumps his arms in the air.

"C'mon Grunt," Garrus rumbles, appearing at the krogan's side. His mandibles flutter as he tries to control his laughter. "It's high time for more ryncol. I owe you one buddy, remember?"

Grunt shakes his head, but allows himself to be towed back to the bar by the turian.

"Impressive," Shepard sighs, almost too soft to hear. But Joker hears everything.

Ever since that mission with Zaeed on Zorya, Shepard and Garrus have been joined at the hip. Literally, Joker thinks, but can't he _prove_ anything. Not since they stopped the surveillance cameras, anyway.

Joker watches as Jacob pokes Miranda in the ribs, but she crosses her arms and shakes her head, refusing to join in with whatever his plans are. Giving a loud grumble, the marine wanders up to the stage alone.

There's no music, and a hush drops over the room; Jacob shifts his weight and clears his throat. Joker looks around, waiting for Jack to start heckling again the way she did for Legion when he'd danced, but the biotic is too busy sucking the face off Donnelly to even care.

Then Jacob begins to speak and the room dissolves into laughter. Joker's jaw drops – surely, not _Taylor_? _Joker_ is the funny man on the ship. _He's_ the one with the trademark humour, not the dullest man who ever walked the Normandy.

And yet Jacob has them rolling in the aisles as he tells tales of his days as a corsair; fighting maidens and rescuing pirates. And the horrible part is, Joker can feel his own lips tugging as he tries to stifle his chuckles.

Damn it, _he_ was planning on being the one going for the laughs tonight. Going on last, when everyone was a bit drunk – or about to pass out, looking at Chakwas – and cleaning up the room. It's all in the timing. And yet there _he_ is - Mr. Exciting, winking at Kelly as she laughs fit to burst.

Shit, Joker grumbles to himself. Jacob's not _that_ funny. Kelly wanted in _his_ pants, too.

He looks around the room, watching the audience. Shepard has slunk off to the corner where Garrus is guarding a slumped Grunt. It's a little darker in that part of the room, but Joker's sure Garrus' hand is pretty far south of the commander's waist. And the way the turian is looking at her...

"He really likes her," Tali giggles in his ear as she sits down near to him. "It's so cute, isn't it? I never imagined those two together, but they're _so_ perfect for each other." She claps her hands in delight.

"Adorable," Joker drawls as the commander runs her hand down Garrus' cheek, stroking her finger across his hard lips. "When they said this was an alien inclusive ship, I hadn't realised they'd meant it _quite_ so literally."

Tali huffs and turns away. "You're just jealous."

"Not too keen on the old mandible licking, myself." He nudges Tali in the ribs. "I'm _more_ than interested in such a beautiful girl as you, Tali'Zora."

Tali doesn't even look at him as she walks away to the bar, shaking her head. It does give him a great view of her rather snug envirosuit though.

Joker's stomach churns as Jacob exits the stage to rapturous applause. The glorified security guard is wandering back to his seat, nodding his thanks to everyone as Gabby rips out a huge whistle from between her fingers. Everyone then laughs and points at her, chanting for her to take the stage.

Gabby stands up, blushing. She's in a slinky green dress, and Joker thinks he's never seen her look prettier. She grabs Crewman Hawthorne's hand, pulling him onto the makeshift stage with her.

They whisper to each other, a soft argument that ends with Hawthorne nodding, looking a little glum. Gabby beams at him, then turns to face the crowd. Tapping her omni tool, music starts to play. She looks to Hawthorne, who rolls his eyes, then begins to sing. Joker is surprised, Hawthorne's got a deep voice and he sounds pretty good. The suave sound is ruined by his bright red cheeks however.

Gabby leans her head on his arm and sings back, her voice low and husky. Perfect. "_My first love. You're every breath that I take. You're every step I make_."

Joker notices that Donnelly has pushed Jack off his lap for a moment, sitting watching his friend with a big smile on his face. Jack's being patient, for her, one arm hanging loosely around the engineer's shoulders as they listen. She's not even sneering.

Apart from the song, the room is silent, the background chatter hushed as someone dims the lights, leaving a spotlight on the couple. Hawthorne is uncomfortable, his cheeks flushed as he sways to the music, but he doesn't back down, his eyes fixed on Gabby as she belts out the track like a professional.

They sail through another chorus together, Hawthorne struggling to keep up. Gabby doesn't seem to care, beaming at him as she sings of her endless love.

As the last note fades away, Donnelly stands up, shouting and clapping as hard as he can, causing the whole room to laugh and follow his lead. There are calls for an encore and people calling Gabby's name, but she's beet red, holding onto Hawthorne's arm as they push through the seats back to their table.

Joker hadn't realised how smitten Hawthorne was, time for _much_ mocking – later. He notes that the room has calmed down, but he's not quite ready for his turn yet.

"Commander," Joker calls, grinning to himself as she leaps back from Garrus, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The expression on both their faces is incriminating enough, anyway. "You've not been up on stage yet. Nor has Garrus. Isn't there something you two are good at together?"

Her glare promises him much retribution later as the room erupts into raucous giggles. Unrepentant, he beams at her and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"I'm sorry Joker, I keep my talents confined to the battlefield," she manages.

"And the bedroom," Garrus whispers, nowhere near as quietly as he'd intended.

Shepard drops her face into her hands as Joker hoots with laughter. All her threats of punishment are worth it for that one line alone.

"Thanks buddy," he winks. "And I hear your old bed in the main battery is still free. Better than sleeping on the sofa."

"Joker, you'll be sleeping in the infirmary if you don't get this talent show of yours moving again," Shepard promises.

"Yes Ma'am," Joker does a sloppy salute, turning back to face the room.

Thane is standing at the front, facing the stage, his hands clasped tight in front of him. Joker's surprised, he hadn't noticed that the drell was in the room.

"Go on," Jack calls out. "Do it like I told you, remember?"

_Jack_ has been coaching Thane? Joker considers moving further away from the stage for his own safety, not wanting more broken bones, when the drell leaps up and spins around in one fluid movement.

Most of the humans in the room gasp at the sight, Jack being the only one who doesn't. The psychotic biotic has a huge grin on her face, her arms wrapped around her middle as she laughs to herself.

Underneath his normal jacket, Thane is wearing a black and white striped jumper and white gloves. His face has been painted completely white, with black kohl around his eyes and a single black tear painted on his cheek.

Before anyone can react, he removes his jacket and starts to move. Thane has a natural grace, even Joker will admit that he usually looks as beautiful as a statue, but right now, it's all Joker can do not to point and laugh.

Thane is pretending that there is a wall in front of him as he mimes patting the air. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he bends and twists around the invisible obstruction. He straightens up, his hands on his hips, the single tear on his cheek emphasising his frown.

Joker hears a giggle behind him that someone shushes.

Confounded by the wall, he pretends to have a rope dangling in front of him and he attempts to climb it. He slides down a little way with a grimace, then clambers back up, fist over fist, pausing to wipe perspiration from his brow.

"Even _God_ hates mimes," Joker murmurs. He hears an answering melodious snicker, but when he looks around Garrus has an innocent expression on his face. Shepard's shoulders are shaking as she laughs silently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

On stage, Thane has jumped off the rope with a dramatic flourish, before realising he's on a windy spot and he's having a hard time standing up. He's buffeted to and fro, leaning into it, his hands in front of his face. He turns his head and beams at the audience, his smile as fake as the wind. Popping an imaginary umbrella to block the breeze, he struggles to keep it from turning inside out.

There's stunned silence in the room, no one knowing where to look, or what to say. Kelly jumps up, clapping furiously. Legion joins in, copying her, its metallic hands clanking. Thane bows, retrieving his jacket and stepping down from the stage, his face expressionless.

"Perfect, toadman, just perfect," Jack hoots, clutching her stomach.

"Thank you Jack. I _have_ been practising." Thane nods to her, before a red-faced Kelly pulls him down beside her, whispering agitatedly in his ear.

"Is that everyone?" Shepard asks as she pushes Garrus further away. Joker notes that she hasn't realised the turian's hands are still clamped around her waist.

"Mordin?" Joker says.

"Nooooo," Gabby shakes her head. "He sang Salarian Rhapsody, remember? _I see a little silhouette of a turian…_"

"Now _that_ was good," Shepard nods. "The way he harmonised with himself."

"Thank you, Commander," Mordin shivers, blinking rapidly as Samara pats his hand. "Singing _is_ enjoyable. Must do again."

"So," Joker tries to contain his impatience. "Everyone's done. My turn now?"

"Go for it buddy," Donnelly waves his fist in the air.

"Oh I will," Joker grins back at the engineer. Grabbing the small bag he's kept by his side, he heads to the stage. He's not too sore today, so his limp isn't as bad as usual. There's a blue blur in his peripheral vision, then Garrus slides past him to place a chair on the stage.

Joker feels a moment of guilt as he grins his thanks to the turian, but it'll be worth it when everyone laughs, he thinks to himself. Using the steps at the side, he limps to the chair and sits, placing the bag next to him.

"The name's Jeff, and tonight, I've got a few impressions planned." Joker grins, doing his cheesiest announcer voice. "First one to shout out the correct answer gets a kiss from EDI."

"Mr Moreau," EDI's blue sphere pops up for the first time. "I really do not…"

"Can it EDI," Joker flaps his hand at her terminal. "I'm workin' here."

Joker looks at the room, all his friends, sitting, standing around the room – but they're all watching him. He takes a deep breath, eyes darting around the room as he shakes his hands, relaxing the tension.

"So, reet, anyway," Joker drops into his best Scottish accent. "Ah spend all mah time doon in engineering, checking out the fine ladies on the security cameras. That Miranda," Joker winks to the black haired woman, "she makes _me_ stand to attention... And Tali, phew, maybe the wee girly has a bucket on her head, but have you seen her ass in that uniform?" Joker does the classic hourglass shape with his hands, a lecherous grin on his face.

Gabby has gone a strange purple colour and is shaking with laughter, but most of the rest of the room look nonplussed. Miranda folds her arms, a frown creasing her face.

"And then ah met Jack, who wears some mighty fine tattoos and nothing else. Ah spent that first few weeks she was here 'working on' the equipment on the lower deck, hoping she'd notice _mah_ equipment... And boy, did she evah..."

Jack is laughing now, while Donnelly is leaning back in his chair, arms folded. Gabby has slid onto the floor, and Hawthorne is bent over, trying to help her up as she howls with laughter.

"Och, nay bother. So what do you think, Gabby?" Joker grins at Gabby, now pulled back into her seat by Hawthorne, still giggling fit to burst. She can't reply, instead holding two thumbs up as her response.

"Okay," Joker drops the accent and looks back at the blank faces staring at him. "This next one's a little easier." He leans down and unzips the bag, checking that everything for his final impression is still fine. It is. Good.

Grabbing a prop, he straightens up and replaces his cap with a bunch of five bananas on his head. He turns sideways to the room, so that they can all see his profile, with the bananas curving off the back of his head. There are one or two gasps of recognition, so he pulls a sniper rifle from the bag and begins to speak.

"His name is Vakarian, Garrus Vakarian." Joker can't do the turian flanging effect, but judging from the grins around the room, the bunch of bananas is enough. "The turian who only has to look at a woman and she starts to hear heavenly choirs singing."

There's a snicker from the front, so Joker peeks out of the corner of his eyes, trying not to move the carefully balanced bananas. He strokes the gun, a wide grin on his face. Joker can see that the whole room is trying not to laugh, eyeing the pissed off turian as they hold their sides. Garrus is ramrod straight, his tiny eyes narrowed as he glares at the pilot.

Even Shepard is giggling, one hand over her mouth to try and conceal her laughter. Jacob is holding onto Miranda as he snorts the words 'banana hat' over and over. Joker grins to himself, he timed it right, enough alcohol and anyone will laugh at anything.

"Famous on Omega for his skills with his 'big gun', his secret special ability is the stick he keeps up his ass, just for beating the bad guys with."

"I'll be shoving those bananas somewhere in a minute," Garrus growls.

Joker pulls them off his head, holding the bunch out to the turian. "You're going to shove them up... right now? Okay then... you two are _kinky_."

"That's... so not what I meant," Garrus drops his head into his hand and the suppressed laughter erupts into full volume.

As the laughter continues, Joker turns away, bending over the bag. This one is important to do right, but he's practised it over and over. He grabs his prop, and fiddles with his hair, glancing in the reflections in the observatory window. Perfect.

Swivelling back to face the room, Joker leans back in his seat, pulling a suave expression. He's practiced this voice for years, winding up the owner many, many times on the old Normandy. "I know my magic hairbump is a thing of legends," Joker's voice has dropped lower, huskier. He sounds earnest and it cracks a little as he speaks. "But, really, men worship it, chicks dig it." He pretends to slide his hand over the shaped quiff. "All those times, Chakwas thought I was sleeping off a migraine, I know what her hands were doing…"

Chakwas gasps, her face bright red, one hand fanning her cheeks. Joker does everything he can to keep his deadpan expression as he winks at her. Shepard is glaring at him, but he can see Garrus is laughing hard, slapping his leg as he roars. He can even hear Tali's tinny laughter. Not many other people in the room get the joke, but that's okay, this one was for the old crew, really.

He keeps up the husky voice, "I… I really am earnest. Women _love_ the earnest look. That plus the hairbump..." Joker does puppy eyes, watching as most of the room stare at him like he's insane. But he's waiting, they've practiced this so many times, any second now...

He feels his hair rustle, then watches everyone's jaws dropping. For the last time that night, all his friends burst into laughter. A quick glance in the reflective window and he can see Boo the hamster peeking out of the now collapsed hairbump, half a carrot sticking out of his cheek pouch as he gazes quizzically around the room.

It's all in the timing.

* * *

All credit to **lordrayne **who, on a 'how to draw a turian' thread - said - _a bunch of bananas surprising__ly __helps with turian fringes in perspective._ Now I can't stop seeing turian's whenever I scoff my breakfast banana.


	6. Chapter 6 Therapy

**T****herapy**

Kelly has been picking at her food for so long that it's gone cold, but there isn't anywhere else to go, so she remains seated in the empty mess hall, poking at the khaki mush with a fork.

Normally, she'd go back to her station, do her reports, watch some security footage to ensure she had a good handle on the crew. But she's made so many mistakes recently, and Tali has been really strict about what areas she is allowed to visit.

Kelly sighs, remembering Shepard's face as the commander banished her to engineering. Tali must have been warned too; even with a face mask, the quarian had radiated disapproval. Kelly has tried her best, doing everything she's asked to do with a smile, but Tali hasn't shown any sign of relenting.

Shoving her food to one side, she drops her head to the table with a bang, eyes shut tight. She's been doing everything she's been trained to by Cerberus, _everything_! _Years_ of study for her psychology degree, and _months_ of Cerberus training, but none of it works!

"Do you require assistance, Miss Chambers?" A melodious voice interrupts her introspection.

Sitting up, trying to straighten her hair with one hand, Kelly realises that the drell, Thane Krios, is standing opposite her, a tray of food in one hand.

"Just a tough day," Kelly forces a bright smile. "Nothing to worry about Mr Krios."

"Thane," the assassin's double eyelids blink rapidly at her as he cocks his head. "May I join you?"

"Please! And call me Kelly," her smile widens of its own accord. She's never really had a chance to get to know Thane. When he'd arrived, she'd joined the other women in admiring him, but he normally keeps himself locked away in the life support area, meditating almost as much as Samara.

"And why is your day so tough, Kelly?" Thane eats his food with grace, his flickering tongue reminding her of a lizard. A very _attractive_ lizard, she corrects herself.

For a brief second she considers complaining about her unfair treatment, but there's something about the deep black of his eyes that hypnotises her, and she finds the unvarnished truth spilling out.

Thane eats in silence as she speaks, telling of her stupidity in touching Garrus, wanting to see if he was attracted to _all_ humans, not just Shepard. Then, of her mistake in trying to elicit sympathy from the Commander. She'd known they were close, but hadn't realised how close... She drops her face into her hands.

"I've made a mess of _everything_. Some counsellor _I_ am. No wonder Tali told me to just shut up," she mumbles through her hands.

"I enjoy listening to you Kelly," Thane interjects, pausing in his eating to stare at her.

"Oh…thank you," she feels a flush rising, mentally cursing her pale skin. "You probably only like me because I haven't been too 'in your face' yet." She tries not to sound bitter when quoting Tali, but it's hard.

"On the contrary, you are one of the few people besides Commander Shepard that I have had a chance to speak to. As someone who has spent most of his life alone, it is refreshing."

"Thank you," she feels her cheeks warming again. "After today… well, it helps to hear that I've done something right."

Thane tilts his head, a slight smile at the edges of his plump lips. She looks at them, wondering if they'd be hard and cool like snakeskin, or soft and warm, more like human skin.

"May I make a suggestion?" Thane raises a brow, a gesture so human Kelly has to stifle a giggle.

"Yes, of course," Kelly nods. She has an urge to reach out and touch him, to see how his skin feels, but she forces herself to clasp her hands under the table instead.

"Treat this as an opportunity to learn. Spend time with Miss nar Rayya ask her what she likes, let her speak," Thane lowers his cutlery and leans closer over the table. "She is a young woman forced by circumstance into a position of responsibility. Her suit is a barrier to physical contact _and_ emotional connections. Let her feel your friendship, and she will love you in return."

"I… Yes, I see…" Kelly taps her finger on her lip as she thinks out loud. "Tali does spend all her time down in engineering, alone. She must get so bored." Blushing, she shakes her head. "I'm so selfish, thinking about all the men on the ship who needed my counselling, I never thought to get to know Tali."

Thane leans back in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. "Then if you do this, not only are you confounding their expectations, you are also doing your job."

"You're a wise man, Thane Krios." Kelly studies him, trying to size him up. "How did you learn so much about humans?"

"All species have the same basic needs; food, shelter, companionship." Thane shrugs, his expression impassive once more.

Even though his tone is neutral, Kelly sees the tension in his posture - his knuckles are pale, as if he fears his hands might fly away if he stops exerting pressure. At long last her years of training pay off; Thane is just as constrained by his career as an assassin as Tali is by her suit. He's lonely.

Smiling as sweetly as she can, Kelly stands up and holds out a hand to the drell. "Come with me? It'll help me if I have someone else there."

"I… " Thane looks down, releasing his hands to tug at his collar. "If you need assistance, Miss Chambers, of course I will help."

The drell assassin stands, taking her hand within his own. His twin eyelids flicker as he moves to her side.

"I think that this is the start of a beautiful friendship." Kelly bounces her way to the elevator, half pulling Thane alongside her.

'Smooth,' she thinks, rubbing her thumb across his palm and risking a glance at his profile. 'And hot. Most definitely hot.'


	7. Chapter 7 Memories

**Memories**

Shepard feels good. True, she's only resting for a few minutes - in between fixing up her badly damaged ship with a crew so exhausted they're only working half-shifts - but she's happy.

Most of that is to do with the heavy alien lying across her lap. Garrus is half asleep, purring under his breath as he rests. Naturally stronger than the human crew, he's been working flat out since the destruction of the collector base.

Not that she's been letting him rest that much in the _evenings_, either. She grins to herself at the memories, pressing a kiss against his forehead, one hand stroking his fringe.

"Mmm Shepard?" Garrus grumbles without opening his eyes.

"Shush, nothing, am just thinking," she kisses down his cheek, along the unscarred mandible towards his lips. She does love how he tastes, that musky sweetness contrasting with the hard texture of his skin. The fluttering of his mandible as she licks, his hot breath warming her cheek.

"It's hard to sleep when you're doing that," Garrus opens his eyes, mandibles widening into a smile. "I know I have great stamina, but even I have to sleep sometimes."

"Shush I said," she grins against his mouth. "I was molesting you while you slept."

"I think I can live with that," Garrus purrs, his eyes sliding closed again.

She's so absorbed in kissing him that she doesn't notice Grunt enter the room until two huge feet appear in her vision. Startled, she straightens up, her hands automatically tightening their grip.

"Ow, Shepard!" Garrus sits up, tugging his fringe away from her. "Oh, Grunt."

The krogan is standing in front of them, hands behind his back as he bounces on the spot. "It's time."

"For what?" Garrus rubs his head as he sits up, sliding off Shepard's lap.

"I accept your challenge to a duel." Grunt is still bouncing; she's never seen him look so excited. "It's time," he repeats.

"Really? Right now?" Garrus sounds a little grumpy, so she hides her smile behind her hand.

"Yes, I wish to pit myself against my battlemaster's mate." Grunt is smiling, his grin widening as Garrus makes a move to stand, grumbling.

"Fine, let's go get this over with." Garrus stretches, his silver plating glistening in the starlight. His expression is less annoyed now, the gleam in his eye one Shepard recognises from his bouts with Wrex.

"Wait, there's no catch right?" She asks the young krogan.

"Catch?" Grunt turns to her.

"Well, if Garrus loses, you don't, well, you don't expect to mate with me or anything do you?"

Garrus tightens his mandibles at her. "If _I_ lose?"

"Hey, if that's what Grunt is expecting... I gotta check." She shrugs at him.

"No, this is a battle for honour, not for mating rights." Grunt eyes her as he speaks. "But, if you would prefer…? "

"No, no. That's fine." Shepard waves her hand. "You two go right ahead. Don't let me stop your alpha male bullshit."

Garrus shoots her a stern glare as he leads the krogan out of the room. Rolling her eyes at the disruption to their rest, she follows the males towards the cargo bay.

#

Sliding onto a nearby crate, Shepard is reminded of the old Normandy – Wrex and Garrus used to spar all the time. Two strong, fit males, locked away in the cargo hold with little else to do on their long journeys. At first it was pretty even, one as likely to win or lose as the other. But as time passed, Garrus' superior tactics and speed meant that he won more often than not; something Grunt probably hasn't taken into account.

"Felt like losing today then Grunt," Garrus teases as he strips down to his black undersuit.

"It has been a week since you challenged me. I felt that I had allowed you enough time to prepare," Grunt replies, his armour clanging to the floor.

"Really? Well, I'm not sure if a week was enough time for the _ultimate_ krogan, but we'll have to see, won't we."

Shepard is pretty sure the sarcasm is way above Grunt's head, but she holds back her smile as she leans forward, watching.

Grunt is an impressive krogan. While a touch shorter than Wrex, he looks stronger, more muscular. He drops into a semi crouch, preparing to charge. Opposite him, Garrus looks too slight to have a chance. Tiny waist, slender arms and legs, only his hips and shoulders give a hint of his wiry strength.

Shepard wishes she'd thought to get some popcorn as Grunt sets off, pounding across the deck towards the turian. The cargo area echoes with the sound of slamming footsteps and heavy breathing, but Garrus doesn't move.

As soon as Grunt lowers his head, Garrus drops to one side, spinning out of the way. An old tactic, one that Wrex had soon learned and compensated for. Shepard assumes that Grunt only has his vat memories to go on, and those didn't contain anything about adapting to a fighter like Garrus.

Using an asari commando move, Garrus knocks Grunt to his knees before leaping away. Grunt flails as he stands, roaring, but Garrus is too far away. Lowering his head, Grunt charges again.

Typical, Shepard rolls her eyes. _Think_ Grunt.

She barely watches as Garrus feints again, once more pushing the top-heavy krogan to the floor. It'd been just after a match like this that he'd told her about Dr Saleon, she remembers. He'd been panting, trying to hold still as she patched up a cracked plate. Angry at himself for losing the match, he'd blurted out his general disgruntlement with C-Sec, and how he'd always wanted to finish off that one case. She's never forgotten the look in his eyes when she'd just shrugged and asked for the details of Saleon's ship.

Tilting her head, she thinks back. Garrus had been different then; younger, more idealistic. She'd cared deeply for him as a friend, taking him on every mission, but she'd never seen him as an equal, not really.

Watching him, confidence overflowing as he leaps aside from another attack with a laugh, she realises that sometimes things do work out for the best. Hard to imagine your own death ever having a _positive_ effect on anything, but if she hadn't died - temporarily - would she be where she is now, with _whom_ she is now? Probably not.

Grunt's frustrated yodel makes her laugh out loud, the poor krogan once more duped by Garrus' unconventional tactics. So much like Wrex. She misses him, as much as she's proud of what he's doing on Tuchanka. Those times, sitting by the Mako, watching Garrus fiddling while talking to Wrex, they were good times. _Great_ times.

"Don't hold back - he cheats you know," she calls out.

"Shepard," Garrus sounds reproachful, his eyes sad as he shakes his head at her. "You know I have no need to cheat."

She'd said almost exactly that to Wrex, when he'd challenged her about her looks - Ashley's fault. Convinced as she was that no-one even _considered_ aliens 'in that way', the gunnery chief had started a pool between Shepard and Wrex. When Shepard had drawn ahead, she'd had to deny cheating, even though she knew she had the advantage with a mostly human, mostly male crew. It didn't help that Ashley made lots of lurid comments about her to ensure she'd win.

"Where did you learn to fight, turian?" Grunt is breathing heavily, but he sounds impressed as he stands still, watching Garrus circling him. "I have many memory imprints of turian tactics from the time of the rebellions; they're nothing like you."

"What can I say? I'm a fast learner, and I have a pretty unique style." Garrus widens his mandibles, feinting again.

The krogan twitches, uncertain how to respond as the turian moves, waiting for an opening.

Garrus _is_ unusual for a turian - she'd not realised how much when she'd first met him. But as she spent more time with him, seeing him relax, seeing his blatant disregard for protocols and rules, she'd come to appreciate just how far he'd fallen from Vakarian senior's 'by the book' ways. She remembers the time it first really struck her; she'd been sitting on her favourite crate, and Garrus had been sprawled on the floor, the Mako's guts spread around him. He'd told her his favourite legend, of the famous ancient warrior and his opposite the female famed for her intellect.

She'd nodded. "We have those kinds of legends too, brains versus brawn. Brains usually won."

Garrus had snorted, looking down at the wrench in his hands. "Yeah well, for us, the brawn who does what he's told and follows the rules is _always_ the winner. The brain who thinks for themselves always ends up in a bad way. _Should have listened to your elders_."

Grunt's snarl drags her back to the present, as the frustrated krogan charges once more, this time not dropping his head. Good. He picks things up fast - it took Wrex _much_ longer to figure that one out.

Not that it makes a difference. Like the Minoan bull-dancers of ancient earth, Garrus waits until Grunt is almost upon him before leaping into the air and grabbing the krogan's cowl. With a twist, he's spinning above the stunned Grunt to land on his shoulders.

Shepard grins. She's seen this manoeuvre _many_ times before; it never ended well for Wrex, either. Poor Grunt.


	8. Chapter 8 Tali'Zorah vas Normandy

For Lalaith Raina - the best Garrus icon maker on the planet.

* * *

**Tali'Zorah vas Normandy**

'Poor little me', Tali thinks. Alone, unnoticed, while everyone around her is having fun. The Dark Star is heaving with the Normandy crew, all drinking, dancing and having fun. Except her, alone in her suit with no-one of her own. She takes another large gulp of her Rannoch Sunset, blinking as the liquid sears down her throat.

Next to her, Kelly is chattering to Thane, the drell barely moving as the yeoman bounces in her seat, the two in stark contrast to one another. They've been wrapped up in 'conversation' most of the night. Kelly isn't _deliberately_ excluding her, but the young red head can't seem to help herself, focussing both her attention and her wandering hands exclusively on Thane.

It's worse than the horde of romance novels Tali has stashed on her personal datapad, the way Kelly looks at Thane. Like he's the last T6 coupling, and the yeoman is in dire need of maintenance.

Thinking of her stories, her one teeny secret vice, Tali surreptitiously pulls her datapad from her pocket and thumbs it onto her favourite - _Intimate Strangers_.

_Leam'Hazu blinked. Then blinked again._

"_Never?" he croaked anxiously. After clearing his throat, he bent forward, pinning her luminous orbs with an incredulous stare. "You haven't had sex,__** ever**__?"_

_Aliza__ groaned apprehensively, squeezing her glowing purple-blue eyes shut. Damn, she hadn't meant to let that slip out. She cringed as she peeked out from under her full lashes. _

_Leam stared at her, his handsome face twisted with disbelief and fascination, his strong arms folded across his manly chest._

"_Could you please not gawk?" she snapped angrily. "We don't all have hordes of women fighting to get into our suits." An image of the many beautiful women trailing Leam flashed through her mind and she scowled prettily._

"_You want to get hordes of women into your suit?" His attempt at humour fell flat, and his eyes narrowed at her angry growl. "Still, you're a __**virgin**__? You can't blame me for being surprised. I mean, look at you, __Aliza__. The most beautiful woman I've ever known, a biotic goddess, a hero of the fleet __**and**__ a successful engineer. Surely there hasn't been a shortage of men wanting you. Why haven't you...?"_

_Aliza licked her full lips in anticipation as her heart fluttered fitfully in her chest. __**He**__ called her beautiful, Leam with his bulging muscles and perfect, sculpted face. _

_Aliza stared at him then, this soldier whose duty it was to look after her. Maybe she should confess the truth, why she'd never had sex in her life. Just lay her feelings out, tell him she'd been waiting for him to notice her..._

'Poor little me', Tali sighs, lowering the datapad to drain her drink. She holds up the glass, squinting with one eye closed. 'Yep, empty'.

"Back in a sec, need more drinks," Tali waves a hand at Kelly, who barely looks away from Thane to acknowledge her, shaking her still-full glass.

In the novel, the lonely virgin quarian girl had been swept off her feet by the big strong...

"Kal!" Tali squeals, spotting the man she's been thinking of standing with Garrus in the entranceway to the club. She veers towards the red-suited soldier, not even looking at Garrus, flinging her arms around the burly quarian as he strides to meet her. Kal hesitates for a moment, then hugs her back. She'd been thinking of Leam, of her Kal, and here he is!

"Miss vas Normandy, it's good to see you," his eyes flash behind his visor. _His perfect, sculpted face,_ she thinks to herself. Kal glances over his shoulder at Garrus, before loosening his arms.

"Wha're you doin' here?" Tali keeps a tight grip on his forearm – _Leam's bulging muscles_ - feeling the ground swaying a little. "C'mon, less gerra drink."

"Are you sure you want another one? You seem quite, well, chipper, already ma'am?" Kal follows her, placing a hand over her own as she pulls them towards the bar.

"Kal, jus' call me Tali." Tali nudges him in the ribs with a giggle. She peers up at him, through her eyelashes, trying to look fetching the way Aliza did.

"I'll work on it, I mean..." Kal sighs, and she sees a glimpse of his smile under the mask. "Okay _Tali_. I will."

She's enjoying listening to him as the barman mixes her cocktail. Kal has a beer, which he sips as he speaks. "We're still tasked to investigate the dark energy build up; I got sent here to acquire some supplies before we go out again," Kal smiles at her, his expression only partially shielded by the mask. "It's not the same without you though, the crew is much quieter. The other scientists aren't as fun."

"I miss you too Kal," Tali leans on his arm, nestling her head against his shoulder. "You're impar... imper... you're special to me."

"Are you sure you want this drink?" Kal eyes the huge glass of almost pure alcohol she scoops off the bar. "These sunsets are strong, they'll get you drunk."

"Already drunk. I wanna get drunker." Tali lets go of his arm to punctuate her speech and wobbles. Giggling, she grabs his arm again, falling against his chest. "Oops, I think I'm _drunkest_!"

Things go a little blurry for a while; she vaguely remembers Kal guiding her to a booth and sitting opposite her. She tries to touch his leg, but he keeps guiding her hand back to above the tabletop. It's a challenge, or maybe a game, so she keeps trying to get past his guard. She likes touching him, his strong arms and muscular thighs, likes looking at his manly chest.

She realises that Kal is speaking to someone and peers blearily at him. Thane is leaning over the table, his dark eyes as serious as ever.

"—she's not normally like this. The Tali I'm used to is a professional lady, keeps her nose down, gets her work done." Kal sounds a little shocked.

"This ish the real me, am just 'takin' my mashk off'," she mutters, annoyed. Neither man seems to listen, continuing to talk about her as if she isn't there. She's used to it. Stupid envirosuits.

"Miss vas Normandy _has_ been unhappy of late," Thane's soft voice cuts through her haze. "Miss Chambers assumed she was missing you, that's why she sent a message."

"Well, uh," Kal rubs the back of his neck through his suit. "That is very kind of Miss Chambers. And I do care for Tali…"

"I knew it!" She squeals, her heart beating faster. "Leam always admits it in the end."

"Leam?" Kal turns to her as Thane disappears into the crowd.

"Nemind. Dance wi' me," Tali pulls Kal up out of the booth, leaning her whole body to physically tug him along behind her.

The dance floor is a little unstable, but Tali compensates by clinging onto Kal'Reegar as she sways. Kal seems uncomfortable at first, stiff even (she can't help her giggle at _that_ thought) but within a song he's relaxed, his strong arms holding her close, stroking her back.

She barely notices the time passing, her mind almost blank as she clings on, but the club is much fuller when Kelly appears at her side.

"Thane wants to go for a walk. Coming? There are some very _romantic_ paths through the park." Kelly winks at Kal, her wide smile infectious.

"Love to. Kal…?" Tali bounces on her toes. "Can we, pleeease?"

"Anything you'd like, Miss… ah, Tali." Kal smiles at her, his nerves evident in the way he rubs the back of his neck again. "After you, Miss Chambers."

Passing Garrus and the Commander, she sees the turian press his forehead against Shepard's. She wants to stop and watch, but Kal'Reegar guides her along, following Kelly and Thane.

Tali can't stop touching Kal, stroking his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. She's pretty sure it's not _just_ the alcohol, but then again, she's never drunk quite as much as this before.

"Shuishide mishon," she says, as they pass under a curved archway towards the park area.

"I'm sorry?" Kal leans closer to her speaker.

"Going on a shuishide mishon," Tali repeats with a sigh. "I dun wanna die…"

"I'm sure Commander Shepard will keep you safe. You're also the most amazing and resourceful woman I've met, I know you'll be fine." Kal squeezes her hand, tucking it closer to his heart.

Tali nods her head, her other hand over her speaker to stifle a giggle. She'd almost admitted _it_ to Leam, and she knows how badly he'd taken it. She peers at Leam's profile as they walk. His brilliant red armoured suit, his black visor. So handsome underneath, and his body — wow.

"'m a virgin," she mutters, followed by a loud belch.

"Tali!" Kelly turns around, sounding shocked, making Tali giggle. "Good job there's no more alcohol, I think you've had _quite_ enough!"

Tali makes a face, unsure if Kal heard her. He's not pinning her luminous orbs with any incredulous stare though, so he might have missed it.

"Kal, I dun wanna die a—"

"Oh. My. God!" Kelly shrieks.

Tali stops talking and peers ahead, blinking at the haze in front of her eyes. They're outside a shop on the edge of the park. It's a quiet corner of the Citadel, with few other pedestrians.

Tali blinks again, unsure of what she's looking at. She hears Kal swearing under his breath and he tugs at her arm, but she stands firm. There are so many _things_ in the window, pink and blue and green. She's finding it hard to focus, so she sways closer to the pane. Her mask connects with the glass with a dull 'thunk' sound.

Kelly grins as she drags Thane into the open doorway. The drell's expression is hard to read, but he allows himself to be led inside.

"Kal?" Tali asks as she clunks her mask against the glass again. "What _is_ this place?"

"Uh, it's…" She hears him gulp before replying. "The shop is called 'A Galaxy of Pleasure'." He coughs, tugging on her arm again.

Tali sways on her feet as she examines the things in front of her. Turning her head, she spots something more familiar – a soft lilac, long, wide and shaped exactly like a male…

"Oh," she murmurs, leaning back quickly, almost falling into Kal'Reegar's arms. "Oh, I _see_."

Tali can just hear Kelly's voice inside. Something about needing the hanar tentacle version. To the left, where she'd turned her gaze away, she spots an image of a familiar face. Shepard.

'From Saviour to Slave-whore of the Citadel' one title screams in lurid yellow, with a human woman in very revealing N7 armour holding up a blaster, dozens of naked men lying at her feet. If you squint, which Tali is doing, the woman looks a tiny bit like Shepard, but with a bigger chest than Miranda. A _much_ biggest chest.

On the next vid along, a muscular turian is holding what looks like the same woman in his arms; he seems to be rather 'excited'. The title to that vid is 'The C-Sec and Spectre Alliance'. Tali isn't sure what they're _alliance-ing_, but it seems to involve being naked and covered in lube.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure this place is appropriate for your delicate sensibilities," Kal tugs on her arm again, almost pulling her off her feet.

"Wait," she peers at the realistic human mannequin propped in the corner. "Is that…?"

Shepard's smiling face peers out of a lifeless doll. Her body shape has _definitely_ been enhanced around the bust area. To the right of the Shepard doll is an asari. It doesn't look familiar, but it's got a tiny blaster in one hand and 'scientific tools' in the other.

'Liara?' Tali snickers, about to point the doll out to Kal when she sees it and freezes. It's another doll, partially hidden by the Liara one. Tall, slender, with a generous bust and ass, it's a quarian shaped doll. A quarian doll wearing an envirosuit suspiciously similar to hers. A suit with a big, obvious zip down the front.

"Is that supposed to be _me_?" Tali squeaks, her finger wavering as she points. She's so shocked, she almost feels sober.

"Can't be ma'am," Kal reassures her. "You're _much_ more beautiful."

Tali twists in his arms, gazing up at him as her heart flutters. He called her beautiful. Leam, with his bulging muscles and perfect, sculpted face, thinks she's _beautiful_.

"Oh Leam… Kal," she runs her fingers down his mask, tilting her head back and leaning closer. "There's something I need to tell you…"

She's interrupted by the clattering of footsteps in the shop doorway. Thane exits first, holding a bulging brown bag, a small smile on his face.

Kelly follows close behind, her expression shocked. "—why have _you_ got a frequent shopper card?"

"I told you, Kelly. I prefer to get up close and personal when I perform my duties. This can mean playing a role, such as a lover or husband. It is vital that I understand the difference between say an elcor or a vorcha's mating rituals."

"Up close and personal?" Kelly snuggles up to the assassin, her voice dropping an octave. "Have you learned about _human_ mating rituals yet?" She delves into his bag and pulls out something long, wobbly and pink.

"Ah, Miss Chambers, I'm not sure…" Thane tugs on his collar, taking a step back.

"Kal," Tali asks, peering at the item in Kelly's hand. "What _is_ that?"

Then, just as she's always dreamed (when alone and in her bunk, anyway), Kal picks her up in his manly arms and carries her away. The sound of his strained, choking laughter definitely _isn't_ part of her fantasies though.


	9. Chapter 9 The Price of Fame

**The Price of Fame**

Shepard stretches as she yawns, enjoying the luxury of space in her bed now that Garrus has got up. It's still warm from his body heat though, so she slides onto his side of the bed and snuggles against his pillow.

Something digs into her neck, so she fishes about in the pile of pillows, hauling out his datapad. Flipping it on, she flicks to the news monitor.

**#**

**Is Shepard dieting again? Yo-yo dieter Commander Shepard is spotted carrying a carton of trendy Turian diet drink kala juice **

Her weight has been up and down over the years and Commander Shepard recently claimed she is finally content with her size.

But the hero was pictured with a carton of kala juice yesterday, raising suspicions that she is still concerned with staying on top of her diet.

Wearing a black mini dress with a grey jacket and grey strappy heels, plus a large black bag, Shepard, 29, was seen leaving the Sunset hotel in the Palaven district carrying a carton of kala juice.

#

She wasn't even _on_ the citadel yesterday, never mind drinking goddamned special turian diet drinks; she's never _heard_ of anything so ridiculous. She has no idea where the accompanying photo of her in a skin tight undersuit is from, but it's long before she died. Her hair is longer, and there are no facial scars.

"Damned paparazzi, it's not even my good side," she frowns.

She spots a familiar logo - the paper Emily Wong writes for. Shepard has helped her with a couple of investigations in the past. Although their last contact was a rather disgruntled email, asking why she hadn't been in touch, Shepard trusts the reporter's professionalism...

#

**Commander Shepard: "I'm in love again." **_**Exclusive**_

Commander Jane Shepard, famous for her dramatic saving of the Citadel, declared killed in action over two years ago, has been seen today on the Zakera Ward.

Shepard, born on this date in 2154, a graduate of the N7 special forces, Commander of the SSV Normandy, and first human Spectre, is a highly decorated officer. Her mission to defend the Citadel from the geth was big news for months.

The _official_ story is that the Normandy was tragically lost, along with twenty Alliance soldiers and the Commander herself two years ago.

Friends of Commander Shepard said that she had become despondent. "I don't know why, perhaps with Saren gone, she felt useless," said Ming Tse, one of Shepard's former classmates at the Alliance Academy. "I heard that she had trouble with relationships, that she couldn't keep a man. I just think she was tired of it all."

Other friends, who had lost contact with her in recent months, feared she was becoming too 'famous.'

"I wouldn't be surprised if she was on stims," said long-time neighbour Melvin Samples. "I mean, I heard that she was meeting the Council, working for the Alliance, _and_ doing every odd job on the Citadel. From what I hear, it's not a long leap from that to stim addiction."

Yet rumours have been circulating for the past two months that the exotic human beauty is not as dead as reported.

I myself met with Commander Shepard today, as she toured the station with ex C-Sec officer Garrus Vakarian. Offering me an **exclusive** interview, we discussed her supposed death, her current mission and exactly why Officer Vakarian was escorting her today.

Click here for more.... 

_Please note, payment will be taken from your credit chip upon clicking._

#

Shepard stares at the datapad incredulously. Who the hell are Ming Tse and Melvin Samples? She's never heard of either of them. And when did the story of her relationship with Garrus leak out? They've not even talked about love in _private_, never mind to some hack for a cheap exclusive. What's next, selling her wedding photos to 'Hi!' magazine?

And why do they keep saying they've seen her in places she hasn't been? Frowning, she flips to the next top story.

#

**Kelly Chambers wears daring low-cut top... for a trip to the grocery store**

With a busy crew to care for and a ship to run, most young officers would be content pulling on an old uniform to nip to the shops.

But not Kelly Chambers. The 22-year-old looked as if she was heading to a nightclub as she popped into the grocery store on Illium yesterday.

Her daring silver tank top plunged almost to the waist, while the sheer fabric revealed her toned stomach.

The outfit was completed by dark tailored trousers, one of Kelly's vast collection of bags, and a stylish pendant.

#

While the photo _is_ rather amusing, (Shepard really does worry about Kelly's choice of casual clothing – only the yeoman's jacket saving her from potential indecency charges in this particular instance), they'd not been on Illium yesterday either. And Kelly, shopping for _groceries_? Shepard shakes her head; she has no idea how they come up with these ridiculous stories.

The next photo makes her pause. It's possibly the worst photo she's ever seen. Of anyone..._ever_.

Shit.

#

**Jane Shepard unairbrushed: Would **_**you**_** hire this face to sell your clothes, perfume or make-up?**

Her elfin features, glowing skin and fresh faced appeal made the young Jane Shepard a superstar, with companies shelling out huge amounts to have her promote their products. 'I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel' is her well know, and well loved, catch phrase.

But it appears that time, and the ravages of her partying lifestyle, have not been kind to Jane. As she attended the Elcor Music Party at the Hanar Gallery on Illium yesterday, the super-spectre's once unblemished skin was marred by fine lines, while even artfully applied make-up couldn't hide the shadows under her eyes.

**#**

For a moment she wonders how to sue a news-station. The photo _is_ her, but she's obviously just come back from a mission; covered in a rainbow of blood, her hair is matted, and her eyes are tired, the bags beneath them so dark she looks like a zombie.

"Which technically I am, I guess," she sulks, hitting the button for the next article.

#

**CERBERUS NETWORK NEWS ARCHIVE**

Jane Shepard, commander of the Cerberus vessel Normandy SR-2, attended a ceremony on the Citadel today. She was flanked by her right hand man, Jacob Taylor. Sources close to the commander told us that there is romance in the air between the handsome couple.

"There are a few bets being laid on when the wedding may be scheduled for." One crewmate said.

"It's a good job her cabin is soundproofed," another chuckled. "Though no-one told Jacob that medbay _isn't_."

Her second in command, Miranda Lawson, had no comment when questioned about the relationship.

#

Cerberus news subtly implying that she's a Cerberus _member_? That she does _not_ like. And that she's marrying Jacob? And Miranda had no comment on any of it?

"I bet she bloody didn't," Shepard grumps, mashing the pad with her thumb, although the next set of photos make her smile again.

#

**Miranda Lawson helped out of club **

Miranda Lawson showed off two _very_ different looks yesterday.

The Cerberus officer appeared at a fundraiser for the Terra Firma party during the day at Omega before heading out to club Afterlife last night.

Switching from her 'official' work uniform, a form fitting white PVC number, Miranda Lawson let her 3,750 credit show-stealing boots do the talking for the evening.

But it seems the pace may have been a bit too much for the 35-year-old, who needed a helping hand as she left the nightspot.

#

Apparently Mordin has invented a teleporter at some point, since they've been seen all over the galaxy last night. And, as amusing as the photos are, taken at a low angle and focusing on Miranda's ample arse, Shepard has no idea when they were taken. Or if they aren't just completely faked.

She hits next, moving to the last story of the morning, and freezes at the byline. Anyone but _her_, and today of all days…

#

**THE LOVE BOAT**

Special report on Shepard's alien love fest

By **Al-Jilani** for Westerlund News

Some see Shepard as the saviour of the Citadel, others know her as the Alliance soldier who became a Spectre, but the unfortunate humans serving on her crew know the truth.

Commander Jane Shepard is a xenophile.

Affectionately known as the 'love boat' by the alien crew, Shepard promotes free love between aliens and humans. She is known for having taken a krogan, turian and drell to her room in the same night, then sent up to ask the human men to join her orgy.

But it seems Shepard hasn't kept her nocturnal activities confined to the crew. As Etarn of Rodam Expeditions told us: "She arrived in my shop with a turian and a drell in tow. She said she wanted me to show her the galaxy, _baby_, then she licked my mandibles. I felt dirty, used. I'd never touched a human before and then she said she wanted to have me, right there on the counter."

**Mandible Fetish**

This intrepid reporter braved the depravity of Omega's Afterlife after finding out that it is Shepard's favourite club, where she often prowls for lone turian men to lure back to her ship. One patron said he'd arrived with his ship and his partner, and after one night with Shepard, he'd lost both.

"Since she had cybernetics added, it takes more than just one human to satisfy her," sources close to the commander told us. "It started out as a joke, that she preferred aliens, but when we visited Tuchanka and she brought scale itch back on board, I knew we were in trouble."

#

Their cabin door slides open in time for Garrus to see Shepard throw a datapad across the room.

"Shepard," he laughs as he carries the tray closer. He's brought her eggs, toast, orange juice, breakfast tea and a new copy of guns 'n ammo. Tali had suggested a rose, but Garrus knows Shepard a little better than that.

Her answering smile is exactly what he'd planned for as she sits up and pats the bed in front of her. He lays the tray down carefully, leaning forward to press his mouth against hers.

"Happy birthday, Jane," he murmurs, feeling her mouth curving. He kisses down her throat, deliberately purring against her neck.

"Unless you want me to waste this breakfast, you really need to stop doing that," her voice sounds husky, so he pulls back, widening his mandibles at her. He pushes the tray a little closer, unable to help his appreciative growl as she attacks the food.

"What was so bad with the news today that you had to terminate my datapad?" Garrus grabs it from the floor and flips the screen on, only to be faced with a full screen photo of Shepard in a bikini. "Oh."

"Oh indeed, Vakarian," she grumbles, her mouth full of toast. "I _hate_ that photo - it makes my bum look bigger than Miranda's."

He tilts the screen, bringing it closer to his eyes. "Yes, it does. Hmm."

Things happen fast. One minute he's on the bed with her smiling at him, the next she's swearing at him and throwing him out of her cabin. The lock blips from green to red, and Garrus heads towards the elevator, sighing.

As much as he hates to do it, he'll have to ask Joker what 'in the doghouse' means. He's pretty sure he understood the whole 'sleeping on the couch' thing, though.


	10. Chapter 10 Alpha Male

**Alpha Male**

"You replaced me with a _fridge_?" Kaidan's outraged voice echoes around the mess hall.

Shepard raises an eyebrow at him. He's been inspecting the SR-2, equally marvelling and envious of the technology on the ex-Cerberus ship. Hauling a khaki duffle bag on his shoulder, he's been quiet in his observations. Until now.

"Kaidan, with the new maintenance subroutines, they didn't have a need for, well, whatever it was you used to do at that console…" she soothes him.

"Never mind, I suppose I'm getting used to being replaced." Kaidan shoots a glare over her shoulder before moving to the sleeping pods.

Shepard hears a low, rumbling growl from behind her and rolls her eyes. Both men have spent the morning snarking at each other. To be fair to Kaidan, Garrus started it by asking if he needed a hand with his luggage, as he knew how 'weak' human males were. Kaidan had responded with a huge biotic push, hefting his luggage and all the other cargo on board in one movement. And it had only gone downhill from there.

It had seemed a _good_ idea at the time, asking Anderson to loan her Kaidan for a week or two, to let him see the SR-2, and that it was no longer under Cerberus control. To show him the damage from the collectors' battle as it's being repaired. She'd explained to him about the Omega-4 mission, she'd shared the data, but she needs someone to give the Council an impartial report on their split from Cerberus, and she trusts Kaidan to do that. Officially she has no Alliance rank, not since being classed as Killed in Action, but Anderson has agreed to her request that Kaidan, _Staff Commander Alenko_, report to her for the duration of the mission.

"When things are no longer any use, it's better to get rid of them," a rumbling voice comments. "The SR-2 is an _upgraded_ model."

"_New_ doesn't always mean _better_," Kaidan snaps back.

Shepard drops her head into her hands. It _had_ seemed a good idea…at the time.

#

"I said, take your _best_ shot, not your only shot," Garrus sneers at Kaidan.

"I did." Kaidan glares at the turian, cracking his knuckles. "Biotics need time to recharge, you know."

Shepard eyes the downed terrorist, the 'corpse' flickering in the holographic chamber. She'd thought that Kaidan had done a good job of isolating the bad guy in the simulated crowd, but from Garrus' expression, it's clear that he isn't impressed.

"I suppose if that's _all_ you can manage before you need a rest…" Garrus murmurs, punctuating his speech with rapid-fire shots from his rifle, barely taking time to aim. "Explains a lot about your lack of… _satisfying_ results." He purrs out the last sentence, smiling at Shepard.

"Simulation clear. Impressive Garrus," EDI chimes in. "You took down 500 percent more terrorists than Staff Commander Alenko, in less time, and with no civilian injuries. Bad_ass_, as Jeff would say."

"Thanks EDI," Garrus drawls, stroking the muzzle of his rifle. "Women love it."

"It looked like someone showing off and finishing too quickly to me," Kaidan mutters, waving his hand to biotically smash the simulated crowd into the walls. "Not sure women love _that_."

Shepard rolls her eyes and exits the training area; she's seen enough for today. Of _both_ of them.

#

"That is _it_!" Shepard slams her hands down on the table. "I am _sick_ of you two acting like _teenagers_. This is important work we're trying to do here, and _neither_ of you are helping."

Kaidan is on her left, his arms crossed, glaring at Garrus. To her right, the turian is leaning casually against the wall, but his mandibles are drawn tight into a frown.

"He started it," Kaidan mutters.

"Did not," Garrus purrs back. "_You_ made the gag about parrots, remember?"

Shepard looks across the table at Miranda, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Jacob, however, is sniggering quietly to himself. Shepard resists the urge to snap at him, taking a deep breath and counting to three.

One…

Two…

"I said parrots can be taught to say anything. I never specifically compared _you_ to a parrot, did I?" Kaidan's husky voice cuts straight through her calming technique.

"Right! That's it. I'm sick of this," Shepard points at Kaidan, then Garrus. "You and you, follow me. _Now_!"

"But Shepard…" Garrus tries to give her his cutest expression, mandibles flared wide, but she shakes her head.

"I said _both_ of you. You had your chance Vakarian, you blew it." She doesn't look around, striding out of the comm. room towards the airlock.

As she passes Kelly, she holds a hand up and beckons to the Yeoman. "Kelly, I need your assistance on this vital mission. Come with us please."

Shepard doesn't slow down, nodding to Kelly as she drops into step beside her. The yeoman is peering back at the two men following behind, but is wise enough not to ask any questions.

Legion is monitoring the Alliance workmen spread all over the ship. They look up as Shepard parades her meek followers past. She hears whispers, but holds her head high, eyes narrowed, ignoring them.

Shepard flips open her omni-tool and taps in a message to the Citadel groundskeeper. _ 'Remember that favour you said you owed me? Can I collect today? I need a private space. Cmdr Shepard.'_

The airlock hisses open and Shepard blinks at the bright artificial sunlight. The dock is busy, mechanics and workers swarming over the damaged ship. Tali is supervising, her datapad in hand, but she looks up as the door opens.

"Tali, free to come help me with this mission?" Shepard pauses, one hand on her hip. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kaidan pushing Garrus to one side and Garrus responding with a sharp elbow back. They still haven't learned.

"Of course Shepard. Donnelly, can you monitor this and call me if you need anything?" Tali passes her datapad to the nearby Scotsman

"Yes Ma'am," the engineer winks at her. "Leave it with me."

Shepard smiles as Tali scurries closer, but starts walking again before the quarian has a chance to speak. She hears whispered questions behind her, but a stern glare thrown over her shoulder silences the two women.

Her omni tool blips the groundskeeper's reply: _'Come to the __Kithoi__ward. The Zephyr Memorial Park.'_

A park? _Perfect_. She can't help the grin on her face as she flags down a transport.

#

"You _have_ to be joking," Kaidan folds his arms, shaking his head.

"For once, I'm with eraser-head." Garrus blinks at her, his mandibles fluttering. "This isn't funny, Jane."

Kaidan glares at Garrus, a small biotic flare across his arms giving away his annoyance at the casual use of her first name.

"It's not optional guys, and it's not a joke. This is an _order_."

Shepard is sitting on a park bench, her arms spread along the back. Tali is sat on her left, her speaker expressing small squeaks of amusement, while Kelly is further to the right, fiddling with the park's environmental controls. The yeoman's smile is clearly visible.

Both Garrus and Kaidan are standing in front of her, looking for all the world like naughty schoolboys called up in front of the headmistress.

"You know I outrank you." Kaidan frowns, fidgeting, unfolding his arms to clasp his hands behind his back.

"Not today you don't. Anderson arranged for _you_ to report to _me_ for this mission. Are you disobeying a direct order soldier?"

Kaidan glares at her then, but she sees the defeat in his eyes, in the way his shoulders slump.

"It's not a combat mission," Garrus shrugs, his mandibles still fluttering.

"Well, I'm disappointed Vakarian," Shepard murmurs, looking him up and down. "You've just heard that Alenko has no choice but to do this, and you're telling me that you're not up for it..." She pouts, pressing a finger to her lower lip.

"I'm up for it," Garrus growls, glaring at the Alliance officer. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"Really? Oh good, it sounds like we're on then," Shepard winks at Tali. "Kelly, five minutes." Kelly salutes, and Shepard beams at the men in front of her.

"Jane, this is so demeaning." Kaidan sighs, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Kaidan, _that's_ the point. Five _days_ of you two circling each other, snapping and barking like hounds. Let's get this sorted out once and for all."

Garrus rolls his head, circling his shoulders to loosen them. "Fine. It's a foregone conclusion anyway."

"You're awfully cocky for someone used to using a rifle to get the job done," Kaidan snaps, removing his weapons from their holsters.

Garrus grins, exposing his needle-sharp teeth and flexing his long, if blunt, talons. "Some of us have _natural_ weapons, squishy."

"I see what you mean, Shepard," Tali murmurs. "They've been like this for five days, you say?"

"Yep. And even after being relegated to the couch for five nights, it seems _some_ people don't get the hint."

Kaidan grins at the word couch, openly laughing at Garrus.

The turian snarls, clawing at the catches of his armour. "Laugh it up Alenko, at least I'm _in_ her bedroom."

Kaidan stops laughing, his dark eyebrows drawing together.

Shepard covers her smile with her hand, glancing across at Kelly, who holds up her fingers in the universal O.K. signal.

"Okay, 'boys'." Shepard claps her hands. "We're ready for you. Let's see you strip."

"Strip, Shepard?" Kaidan shoots a look at Garrus, who's already removed most of his armour, then looks over his shoulder to the wide open space behind him. "Wait, what? Where's all this mud come from? This was a field."

"Gosh!" Shepard puts her hands to her cheeks, opening her eyes and mouth wide in fake alarm. "Kelly, what's happened?"

"The environmental controls seem to have broken." Kelly shrugs. "Not much I can do. They'll have to uh, fight in the mud."

"Jane, _really_?" Kaidan tries again, giving her his best earnest expression. "You're teasing me."

Shepard wiggles her fingers at him. "Strip. That's an order soldier."

Kaidan sighs and moves away, turning his back on them to start removing his armour, snapping one catch at a time.

"Scared of a little bit of mud, Alenko?" Garrus scoffs, already stripped down to just a pair of black undershorts. He's stretching, loosening up his muscles as he waits.

Shepard finds herself distracted by his body, the silvery plates, the muscular, sinewy thighs. She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands and sighs.

"He _is_ rather pretty, isn't he Shepard," Tali murmurs, her faceplate tilting as Garrus turns around, her attention obviously following his rear.

"That ass!" Kelly squeals as she sits down beside them. "Shepard, you're a lucky woman."

Shepard raises an eyebrow at the young red-head. "Good job your pet drell isn't within hearing range."

"Oh, Thane and I aren't like that," Kelly blushes.

"Not from lack of trying, eh?" Tali teases, leaning forward to peer around Shepard at her friend.

Kelly shakes her head, not looking at the quarian, her cheeks red. "Just friends," she mumbles.

Shepard raises a hand, shushing them, pointing to the two men in front of them.

Kaidan has almost fully stripped down, his bare chest gleaming in the Citadel's bright light. He's tall and muscular, but his skin looks soft beside Garrus' armour plating.

"Kaidan has a tattoo?" Kelly sounds both surprised and impressed.

"More than one," Shepard winks at the yeoman. "But you won't see that other one today, I don't think."

The biotic bends to take his boots off, and all three women sigh.

"My word Shepard, I can see what you liked about Kaidan too," Tali murmurs, her head moving to follow Kaidan's cloth-covered arse.

Kaidan looks over his shoulder, blushing and hopping as he turns his rear away from their gaze. "This is your fault, Vakarian." His husky voice breaks as he complains.

Garrus shrugs, flexing his arm muscles. "I'm used to it from Jane - _and_ Kelly. Tali perving though, well, that's a new one."

"Less talk, more men on men action please," Shepard shouts over the other women's giggles.

Kaidan is now stripped down to just his underwear, and he turns to face Shepard, his expression dark. "I outrank you," he says again.

"Yes, yes - and yet there you stand," she smiles. "Chain of command, it's a _bitch_."

She settles back against her seat, looking at Garrus standing ankle deep in the mud with Kaidan edging towards him.

"How did you convince them to do this Shepard?" Tali sounds awed, her head resting on her hands.

"Garrus would jump at _any_ chance to kick Kaidan's ass. And Kaidan? He's a good soldier, never turns down a direct order."

Garrus drops into a fighting stance as Kaidan starts to circle him. "Finally ready Alenko? Not going to get _tired_ after one little biotic release?"

"I don't need biotics to beat _you_," Kaidan snaps, leaping forward and slamming his elbow into Garrus' throat. He lands heavily, his knees bent, trying to steady himself on the slippery ground as the turian flips backwards into the mud.

Garrus is up within moments, jumping onto the Alliance officer's back and knocking him facedown into the mud. The turian leans forward, and Shepard can see him whisper something into Kaidan's ear. They're too far for her to hear what's said, but it seems to piss Kaidan off; he flexes, blue biotic trails covering his body and then rippling outwards.

Garrus is thrown away, slamming into a nearby tree and sliding down onto the soil.

"Garrus?" Shepard calls out.

"I'm fine Shepard, he hits like a girl." Garrus glances at her and widens his mandibles. "Well, _most_ girls. You hit way harder than anyone I've met."

She grins back, laughing at his face, dripping in grey mud.

"Good grief!" Kaidan roars, striding through the mud. He's covered in grey dirt from head to foot, the sole exception the tip of his nose. "Do you _ever_ stop flirting?"

"No!" Tali and Kelly chorus together, making Shepard laugh even harder.

Garrus uses Kaidan's distraction to slam into the biotic, causing him to stagger backwards. Grey mud sloshes everywhere, leaving the two combatants only distinguishable by their body shapes.

Turning to ask Kelly a question, Shepard notices that the red-head's omni-tool is lit up, and that she's staring avidly at its screen.

"Kelly, are you… recording this?" Shepard asks.

Kelly jumps, looking up at Shepard and blushing. "Well, um. Yes? For you?" She smiles. "I thought you'd like a copy?"

"Nice thinking," Shepard replies, raising one eyebrow. "As long as I have the _only_ copy, that is Miss Chambers."

Kelly visibly sags, her smile wavering, but she nods. "Of course Commander."

"Good," Shepard turns in time to see Garrus being pushed back by a huge biotic burst. "No biotics my ass," she laughs, as Garrus retaliates by bodily throwing Kaidan into the deeper mud. The turian leaps into the air and lands on the human's back.

There's the wet sound of flesh slapping flesh and Kaidan growls in anger, struggling to sit up. Garrus holds him down with one hand, smiling across the muddy ground at her.

"Shepard, who do you think is going to win?" Tali asks.

Shepard glances at the two women sitting either side of her and grins. "Honestly girls. Don't you know?" She points to the mostly naked men grappling in front of them and sighs, leaning forward with a dreamy smile. "Us. I'd say that the only winners here are definitely us."


	11. Chapter 11 Bred to Kill

**Bred to Kill**

_Disappointment. Sadness. She folds her arms, sunset eyes scowling at me as she pulls Kolyat away._

"_I must do this," I repeat, but neither of them are listening to me._

"_Daddy, stay," Kolyat cries again. He always cries when I leave, the sounds tearing out the last pieces of my heart. "Why can't father stay?"  
_

"_I don't know Kolyat, I ask him the same thing every time he leaves," Irikah no longer sounds angry, the way she used to. "He still leaves."_

"_This is the only life I know." As soon as I've said it, I want to take it back, want to make her forget my mistake. They are my life; my wife, my son._

_But forgetting isn't something possible for us. The thin line of her lips, the tears on her cheek, Kolyat's disappointment. They will remain with me forever._

"_Siha…" I try to speak to her, this beautiful woman, the love of my life._

"_I know Thane," her voice is soft, tears catching in her throat. "You love me. You're doing this for us. You won't be long." She turns away from me._

"_Irikah, please," I caress the back of her neck, feel the tension underneath her soft skin. _

"_Thane, I…I love you." She turns to me, swaying closer, her eyes sliding shut as she tips her head back, lips parting…_

Thane blinks, drawing back from his memories at the sound of footsteps on steel, right foot leading. Female, human. Miss Chambers. Seventeen pressure points for instantaneous death, six locations for paralysis. Only two for an unconscious state.

The door to life support opens and his instincts kick in. His pistol is by his right hand, his SMG stored two point four seconds away. Three safe exits, two potentially hazardous routes. Condition amber.

"Thane, do you have a minute?" Kelly asks from the doorway.

A socially acceptable question, the polite response would be to accept. "Of course Miss Chambers, do come in," Thane replies.

Kelly walks into the room, past him, sliding into the chair opposite. A safe distance for an untrained, unarmed human. Thane leans forward, his hands held in front of his face, protecting his soft throat from sharp weapons. Situation under control. "Can I help you?"

"I've had a message. From Bailey in C-Sec," Kelly slides a datapad across the table.

Thane reaches for it, deliberately caressing her fingers as he picks up the pad. As he suspected - dilated pupils, respiration shallow. She _is_ sexually attracted.

Holding the pad casually in one hand, he pretends to read it, first scanning for hacks or distortions. The pad is clean. He glances up at Kelly, who has leaned forward, and he blinks both eyelids slowly. 'Interesting - flushed cheeks, increased pheromones. She is aroused by his face.'

Thane smiles at her before dropping his eyes back to the pad. Kolyat is working hard, Bailey is pleased with his progress. All information that Shepard has already shared with him. He tries to control his disappointment at being dragged from his memories for this.

Thane nods once, sliding the pad back to Kelly, pressing his hand against hers and holding her fingers. "Thank you, I appreciate being informed."

'Increased heart rate from touch', he notes. 'Unusual; is the whole of human skin an erogenous zone, or is Kelly particularly sensitive? No such response from Shepard, a known xenophile. Must investigate with other human females. Dr Chakwas a good subject; older, less prone to adolescent hormonal flushes.'

"We're stopping at the Citadel today. In a couple of hours, actually. Would you like to meet Kolyat?" Kelly asks, squeezing his hand.

"I…" Thane blinks. Surprised into listening, he stops calculating and considers her question. "I don't know if I am welcome. Kolyat is angry with me."

"All the more reason for you, as his father, to go see him," Kelly pats his hand.

Resisting the urge to pull away, Thane frowns at her. A flicker of anger sparks up his spine, causing his throat to swell slightly. "He is working to unite his body and soul. I cannot see how I can help him."

"Yes, I remember you telling me about your assassinations, and about how you feel no guilt. How drell believe in a separation of body and soul," Kelly pats his hand again. "Are you sure that your experiences won't help Kolyat? I believe in you, I believe that you _can_ help him."

Thane blinks again, considering his options. Kill Kelly and the conversation will be over, but the consequences with Shepard will be extreme. Say no to Kelly, and there is the possibility that his friendship with her will be in jeopardy. The only other option is to accept her advice and face his son.

He tilts his head, looking at the red-headed human more closely. He recognises that the first option is flawed, but the second… losing Kelly's friendship? Is that an option? As much as it pains him to admit it, he _is_ lonely and she is one of the few people to talk to him.

"Very well, Miss Chambers. If Commander Shepard grants the crew shore leave, I will visit my son." Thane pulls his hand back and nods at her. He places it casually on his hip, just above his pistol as she makes a move to leave.

"I'll go speak to her now. I think you've made the right choice." She beams at him as she stands.

He watches in silence as Kelly leaves, humming to herself, his hand hovering above his pistol. As the door closes, he relaxes back and places his hands on the table, secure in his knowledge of the exits and security weak points.

He's unsure how he feels about the upcoming meeting, but his heart feels lighter. Closing his eyes, he concentrates inwards. Relaxing his thoughts, he lets his mind slide into his body. Liquid in lungs, bubbling. Breathless. Meditation fifteen percent less efficacious than last session, possibly due to interruption. Keprals advancing exponentially. Very little time left.

Perhaps seeing Kolyat soon isn't such a bad idea at all.

#

"I don't care!" Kolyat throws his arms into the air and turns away from his father. "You dumped me with C-Sec the way you dumped me with your relatives. Just a problem to be got rid of."

Kelly leans back into the shadows. She's not sure why Thane asked her to accompany him, but she was thrilled that he'd thought of her. Now, she's not so sure.

"Kolyat," Thane's soft voice ripples along her spine. "I had no choice. It was community service with C-Sec, or prison. Surely you can see…"

"I can see that like always, you didn't care about _me_, about what _I _wanted," tears run freely down the teenager's cheeks. "You're never there for me."

"I…" Thane looks down at the floor and Kelly watches his shoulders sag slightly. "You're right, I'm not. But I'm trying to change."

"Bit late for that," Kolyat looks down at the datapad he's holding as he performs his community service. "Just go away. It's what you're best at."

"I… Very well, I will do as you wish. Goodbye, Kolyat," Thane nods to his son and moves away, his hands clasped behind his ramrod-straight back.

To someone who doesn't know the assassin, he might seem as if he doesn't feel anything. But Kelly is used to him now; she recognises the tightness across his shoulders, the way his head is fixed as he looks into the distance. She is torn between catching Thane up and trying to help Kolyat, if she can.

"Kolyat?" She steps out of the shadows towards the young drell. "Your father might not be able to tell you how he feels, but I'm his friend. And I know that you're the only thing in the universe that he cares about."

"Oh really. And what makes _you_ such an expert? Are you his new woman? Has he replaced my mother so quickly?" Kolyat sneers, but tears are running down his cheeks. He swipes at them with the back of his hand.

"He doesn't even look at me _that_ way," Kelly shakes her head. "Perhaps I might wish that he would, I don't know. What I _do_ know is that Thane loves your mother, and he loves you. Most of the time, he pretends to be interested in me; he's polite and he's attentive, but I can see that he's not really there. But when he speaks of you, the assassin fades away and Thane the father appears." Kelly pats Kolyat on the shoulder and whispers, glancing at Thane's retreating back. "Please give him a chance - he doesn't have long left."

Kolyat blinks at her, both eyelids shuttering back and forth rapidly as he thinks. "Dad, wait…"

And even though she's out of hearing range of the pair as they speak, she's glad that she accompanied Thane - just to see the genuine happiness on his face as his son talks to him and listens before hugging him goodbye.


	12. Chapter 12 Love at First Punch

**Love at First Punch**

Shepard takes a sip of her tea, trying to calm down even as she surveys the disaster in front of her. Her drink is hot and tasty, but does nothing to help relieve her stress. With a sigh, she picks up the knife again.

Cooking. Who knew how hard it could be? As a soldier she'd lived off rations, when on shore leave she'd eaten takeaway. How on earth had she let the giggle twins - Kelly and Tali - talk her into trying to cook? And dextro-amino foods, no less.

Shepard pokes the wobbly, slimy, purple _thing_ with her knife. The recipe states to slice it, then fry it with the knobbly green thing. But she's not even sure if the sauce of the yellow, banana-like fruits is cooked yet. It's supposed to turn thicker when it's done, but it's as runny and lumpy as when she began heating it about 20 minutes ago.

Poking the purple thing again, she sips more of her tea. Tali told her it was a vegetable, but really, it looks like a giant oily slug. She wonders if the food will taste the same without it, as she has no intention of trying to slice the quivering mass.

"Battlemaster," Grunt calls from near the elevator, his feet thudding across the metal floor. "I wanted…." The young krogan pauses, his mouth hanging open.

"What is it Grunt? I'm busy," Shepard snaps, waving the knife at him.

"Has the food offended you?" Grunt leans forward, peering at the messy pans scattered on the work surface. "You seem to be fighting a war. And _losing_." Grunt bounces upright, his mouth stretched into the approximation of a human smile.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny kid," Shepard smiles back, before really grinning. "Hey, gimmie a hand here Grunt, slice me that…" she points to the slug, "thing. So it'll fit into the pan over there."

Grunt doesn't move for a moment, and Shepard is wondering if she's made some krogan social faux pas when the youngster picks up a knife and starts to slice at the soft vegetable.

Managing to hide her relieved smile behind her steaming mug, she watches as the vegetable is hacked into ragged chunks. Not quite as visually appetising as the colourful recipe book, but it fits in the pan now, at least.

"Thanks," she pushes the knobbly thing towards Grunt. "That one too." Checking the almost-banana sauce, she notes that it's thickened to a smooth looking consistency and actually smells delicious. This might just work.

"Why are you performing this food ritual?" Grunt handles the knife well, his short arms and thick fingers still delicate enough to help.

"I, uh, well, I made a bet with Garrus and the loser had to cook for the other one," Shepard looks down at the recipe list, skimming along the page with her finger.

"_My_ battlemaster? Lost a fight! When was this epic battle, how did you lose to your mate?"

She looks down at the pan bubbling next to her, feeling the heat flooding her cheeks as she remembers _exactly_ what Garrus had done to win, and how she hadn't minded at the time. Not really. "Let's just say, losing isn't _always_ a bad thing."

Grunt doesn't reply, pushing the pan filled with sliced food back to her. She spends a few minutes following the instructions, chewing her lower lip and sticking her tongue out as she fiddles with the heat settings.

Satisfied that she can relax for a moment, she realises that Grunt is still standing there, peering at her. "Can I help Grunt? I'm assuming you didn't come just to help me slice up the dead slug. Hungry?"

"Shepard," the young krogan looks down and fiddles with the sharp knife. "My imprints. They don't cover all aspects of krogan society. I need… I want advice."

"Oh sure," Shepard beams at him, stirring the strange purple-green mixture in the pan. "Ask away."

"When we performed my rite, killed the maw..." Grunt fiddles with the knife some more, then seems to realise what he's doing and puts it down. "There were many breeding requests…"

Shepard feels Grunt's blue eyes peering at her and she freezes. "Yes…?"

The young krogan has an expression she's never seen before as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I was born in a tank. I've never even met a female krogan."

"Neither have I," Shepard mutters, stirring the pan faster, mashing the vegetables.

Grunt glares at her then, an expression she recognises. "You and your turian, you are constantly mating…" she blushes, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Then yesterday I found Jack and her mate in my tank. In _my_ tank!" Grunt slams a fist on the counter to emphasise his point. "And that Cerberus couple are slobbering away _right now_ next door."

Shepard glances over her shoulder, her lips curling. She had no idea that Jacob was in Miranda's office and that they were… She shudders and looks back at the krogan. "You have good hearing."

"You have _no_ idea," the krogan huffs. "The other day, when you and your turian were in the elevator, I never would have guessed that he liked –"

"_Anyway_, moving swiftly on," Shepard bangs the pans around to try and drown Grunt out. "So you wanted advice?" She chews her lip, looking down at the vegetables that seem to have turned into a mushy paste.

"I request the knowledge and experience of my battlemaster," Grunt places his hands behind his back and bounces on his toes, excitement all over his face. "I know that despite your pointless laying with a turian, you must have experience with this. It."

"Right, well. It. The birds and the krogans… Where do I begin?" Shepard lowers the heat on the food and prods it one last time.

For a moment, she ponders sending him to speak to Mordin, but Grunt is staring at her with such an expression of utter dependence that she knows she can't trust the innocent boy with the salarian doctor.

Then, like so many times before, Garrus saves her. There's a soft 'woosh' as the door to the main battery opens and his boot-clad feet ring out on the flooring.

"Grunt," Shepard leans over the counter and whispers. "Let me tell you a secret. In my society, it is considered a great honour for the male to be asked about important matters such as these." She holds Grunt's gaze for a few seconds, then flicks her eyes towards the approaching turian, then back to Grunt.

The krogran nods, his wide mouth stretched into a smile as he turns to face Garrus, bouncing on the spot in excitement once more.

#

Considering he had won, Garrus feels like Shepard sucker punched him good. First by making him eat food that smelled worse than a varren den, whatever he'd told her. _"Yes Jane, it's absolutely delicious. Thank you for cooking,"_ he'd managed as he'd choked down bite after bite. He might be stupid about some things, but that one, he knew there was only _one_ right answer. Her answering smile of relief had made stomaching the poisonous concoction worth it.

Then, as if that wasn't enough pain for one day, she'd smiled as she'd handed him _this_ - somehow becoming the surrogate father to an adolescent krogan. Garrus had tried to explain attraction, relationships and mating, having no real idea if what he said was appropriate for a krogan anyway. EDI had helpfully interrupted once or twice, correcting him on matters of protocol, but Grunt had hung onto his every word, nodding his broad head and repeating the odd word to himself to memorise it.

What he hadn't realised was Grunt's impeccable timing; only two jumps away from Tuchanka, Shepard had happily ordered the ship to the krogan homeworld and sent them down to meet the female leader, while she 'caught up on paperwork'.

Right. Paperwork. She's probably laughing herself breathless, Garrus sighed to himself as he trudged through the remains of a city. Or got EDI spying on us. He peers up into the dust-filled sky, his mandibles drawn tight.

Grunt marches along beside him, a mixture of excitement and impatience as he kicks at the loose rubble. "Do they know I am here?"

"Wrex has arranged it. I'm to take you to meet the female clan leader. She knows about your breeding requests."

Garrus ponders what he's just said and resists the urge to groan. Shepard has managed to turn him into some kind of intergalactic pimp, taking the young virgin to his arranged breeding session. "It's much easier as a turian," he mutters. "If you like her, fight with her and see if she bites you back."

"If you like her, fight with her?" Grunt peers at him. "This sounds suitable for a krogan female."

"Well, I don't know –" Garrus stops as they spot a heavily guarded complex to their left. "Here."

Garrus allows his mandibles to flutter as the guards let them pass with none of the usual krogan/turian hatred. Wrex has been true to his word in helping the tank-born baby through this stage of his existence.

Then they're inside the gate and Garrus' mouth drops open in surprise. He's never met a krogan female before, so he had no idea they looked like _this_. So, well, like _that_, and all those strange...

Beside him, he hears a strangled noise from Grunt. The youngster is looking around the enclosed area at the many different females, his hands twitching at his sides as he gawps.

"A newborn in a sweet shop," Garrus grins as Grunt continues to stare.

Then a bureaucrat is in his face, thrusting a datapad with mating right details, and official permission forms at him. By the time he's finished and the paperwork is done, the young krogan has wandered off.

"Grunt?" Garrus calls out. "It's all sorted..."

Heading towards where he'd last seen him, Garrus hears the harsh barking of krogan laughter. Veering towards it, he spies Grunt.

While physical body language can be quite complex among different species, Garrus is pretty sure he's looking at a young krogan in love. Grunt is looking down at the floor, then back into the female's eyes, while also flexing his muscles and posing to look bigger and meaner.

The female looks much older, her face scarred, her muscles fading. But Garrus can see what drew Grunt across the room. She is a beautiful deep red colouring, with wide green eyes. She stands out from the other women.

"-your crest. It's so unusual. These bony ridges..." The older female strokes Grunt's head and he huffs to himself. "And your eyes, I've never seen such a blue."

Grunt notices Garrus and straightens up, his body tensing. "I am pure krogan; you should be in awe," he roars into her face.

The female's face creases into a krogan smile and she catches Garrus' eye. He shrugs and holds out the datapad. "Grunt, come on. Your breeding requests are here."

"Oh," Grunt looks at the older female again. "I don't get to choose?"

She laughs and pats his shoulder. "Go on little one. Urdnot Wrex needs you to produce many strong krogan from fertile females."

Her hint about fertility seems too subtle for Grunt, as he drags his heels in following Garrus. "Turian, how do you woo a woman?"

Garrus coughs, rubbing his mandible in thought. "Well, Shepard fell for me for my handsome looks, charming personality and amazing skills."

"How did a turian like you win a woman like Commander Shepard?" The krogan is only half listening, peering over his shoulder as he walks.

"Uh, well, I sniped a lot of things. Made a few jokes. She quite likes my ass..." How their friendship turned into something else isn't a regular topic of conversation, and he's embarrassed to realise that he has no idea what changed him from a friend to a lover in Shepard's eyes.

"And women like this?" Grunt sounds incredulous. "Shooting from far away? Not getting close to beat your opponent to death. Making _jokes_."

Garrus shrugs a shoulder, passing Grunt the datapad. The youngster takes it and peers at the contents, with a soft sigh. "I don't even know her name."

"Uh, she looks a little older than you," Garrus tries to be diplomatic, but his comment earns him a snarl from the youngster.

"She is _beautiful_. Her skin has been touched by the scorching sun, her scars proof that her strength matches her beauty. I want to feel the years of battles that developed her muscles as I..."

"It's okay, I get it, I get it," Garrus snaps. "What _is_ it with krogans and bad poetry? Fine. Let me go see if she's available." He snatches the datapad and heads back to the bureaucrat, his head hanging low.

It's official. Garrus Vakarian is an intergalactic pimp. Shepard will _never _let him live this down.


	13. Chapter 13 Messages

_Sorry for the amazingly short chapter, I've been wrapped up in the election here in the UK and having far too much fun watching, discussing and participating to enter the ME universe for too long. Hopefully back to normal on Monday  
_

* * *

No messages.

Kaidan lets the scorching hot water beat heavily against his shoulders as he leans into the shower. His muscles ache, involuntary twitches in his limbs reminding him that he's been pushing himself too hard; too much gym time, too much biotic training. The water massages him as he turns, running his hands through his hair, but he can't stop his body from trembling. Bracing himself against the wall with one arm, his head droops down as he closes his eyes.

There have been no messages for over a day. The Normandy, the _Cerberus_ vessel, Kaidan corrects himself, went through the Omega-4 relay over a day ago and there's been no update since.

Angry at himself, he turns off the water and grabs a towel, scrubbing the starchy fabric against his thigh hard enough to turn the skin a pink colour.

She's died before. Why does he believe that she can do it, when no other ship has? Anderson had briefed him of her intent the day after he'd bumped into her on the Citadel and he'd laughed at her audacity. But he'd been convinced, they'd _both_ been convinced, that Shepard had a plan. And yet here he is; no updates, and it's almost 26 hours now.

Noticing his raw skin, Kaidan wraps the towel loosely around his hips and sighs, running his hands though his thick hair.

Can he go through this again? Losing her? The reports, the Council, the _rumours_. Kaidan shakes his head, his shoulders slumping. Even after Horizon and the terrible meeting in the Dark Star, he knows they're close. His love for her hasn't faded and he knows that, whatever her feelings might be for Garrus, she still cares for him too.

As has been his habit for the last day, his eyes flick to his console. This time it's different, a dull orange glow throbs back at him. A message, marked urgent.

Forgetting about getting dry or dressed, he almost flies across the room to power up the console's screen. Lots of junk, one from Chloe…

That's when he sees it. His hand shakes even more as he hits the read message button, and he takes a deep breath as he scans the first few lines.

_Staff Commander Alenko,_

_I'm sure the Alliance has been tracking the Normandy SR-2 and it's probably been flagged to you that we went through the Omega-4 relay over twenty four hours ago. I had intended to inform the Alliance before we embarked upon the mission but certain parameters changed and the timescales were forcibly reduced._

_I wanted to inform you that our mission was successful and the objective agreed with Ambassador Anderson has been completed. There was however one fatality, an engineer named Gabriella Daniels, a loyal and proud member of my crew. I also regret to inform you that we were unable to locate or extract any of the missing colonists. I am happy to confirm that there will be no more abductions._

_I cannot send you any further mission data via this channel, but I promise you, as soon as the Normandy is in order, I will present a report to the Council. I will speak to you then._

_Shepard._

His legs feel weak and he grabs onto the panel to hold himself upright. His chest screams at him and he lets out the breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. He leans forward, head clunking on the side as he laughs, his voice high and tremulous, almost hysterical as one though runs through his brain over and over.

She made it! Thank God, she's alive. Shepard's _alive_.

His mind is still racing, dark energy bubbling through his veins when his console blips again, another urgent message. Raising his head, he sees it, this one marked as encoded.

Inputting his usual code, the message is unaffected. Intrigued, Kaidan leans closer.

Not Alliance then… He tries another code, a private one for Anderson. Nothing.

Tapping his fingers on the edge of the screen, he peers at the untitled mail before trying one last code. He's not used it for over two years. Not since…

The code is accepted and the message slides open. Closing his eyes for a second, he rubs a hand across his forehead, sensing more than feeling the beginning of a migraine.

_Kaidan,_

_I'm sorry we didn't really get a chance to speak on the Citadel. Your friendship is important to me but it seemed like fate has been against us. But I want you to be the first person I tell – __**I've broken all ties with Cerberus.**_

_I'm not sorry for working with them. I never wanted to be here, God Kaidan, you __**know**__ how much I hate them. But I hope you understand that they gave me the resources to stop the abductions when no-one else was doing anything. The things I've seen..._

_Well, I'm tired, I lost a good crewmate today and many of the others are in the medbay. And this was just one reaper. __**One**__ Kaidan, and I dread to think how many more are out there._

_We're heading back to the Citadel, but the Normandy is in bad shape, so we may be some time._

_Take care and I hope we can speak soon,_

_Jane._

The world shimmers as if he's looking through water - the writing blurs beyond his ability to read it. Pain shoots behind his temples like electric shocks as the light rips into his eyes. His limbs tense and seize, as waves of nausea knock him to his knees. He's almost thankful as he passes out before even hitting the floor.


	14. Chapter 14 One year

**One Year**

One year. That's what he'd told Siha, when he'd first met her on Illium. One year was the diagnosis before his Kepral's would kill him.

Over four months later, as he meditates in the Life Support area, he wonders how accurate that estimate is. Even with almost constant meditation, his lung gurgle as he breathes, each intake rapid and shallow, each exhale irregular and painful. Coughing now hurts more than ever before and leaves a faint mist of blood on his hand.

Confident in the security of the room, he closes his eyes and tries to lose these morbid thoughts. He thinks back upon the last few weeks. While the Normandy is docked for repairs, Thane has spent a few hours each day with his son Kolyat.

_Kolyat folds his arms, turning away. Kelly murmurs something, pausing the teenager. She nudges him, murm__uring again and then my son looks at me, a hesitant smile curving his lips. His mother's colouring, her strong chin, her markings. How he reminds me of her, that epitome of beauty._

_I smile back, holding out a hand, soothed by his fingers sliding against my palm. "Shall we sit and talk? There is a wonderful restaurant known for drell cuisine __in the lower wards."_

_Kolyat hesitates, his smile wavering. "I… I don't have many credits."_

"_Can't a…" I almost choke on the word, but it feels good to say it to his face, "a father buy his son dinner?"_

_His answering smile is radiant, lingering anger fading as he moves to my side. I glance at Kelly, but she shakes her head and waves her hands at me to indicate we go on without her. Nodding in acknowledgement, I turn away and go to eat with my son for the first time in a decade._

Kelly. She has accompanied him with Kolyat many times now. Perhaps it's her age, but she connects better with Kolyat than he has managed so far. She is the one who helped them get past the awkward stages, filling many of the uncomfortable silences, suggesting activities, planning further meetings.

_The music is loud and I feel __uneasy, exposed. Too many people and no clear, defined mission. In front of me Kolyat sips a drink while chatting animatedly to Kelly. She responds, including me in the conversation with a smile and a laugh, and once more I am rewarded with a warm look from my son. My discomfort fades away and I live in the moment, my smile genuine as warmth floods though me. He is my home._

While Thane had initially not wished anything more than friendship from Kelly, she has shown herself numerous times to be much more than a mere friend. She's known when to stay with them, when to leave them alone. Without her…

Thane lowers his head to his clasped hands. Without her, he might have died before ever reconnecting with his son. With the increase of fluid in his lungs, the prions Mordin tells him are spreading through his body, he's not sure how much longer he has left. Eight months as predicted? Less?

These past few weeks with his son mean more to him than all of the intervening years since Irikah was sent to the sea. He _owes_ Kelly; the debt itches at him.

Almost as if thinking about her has summoned her, Thane hears her distinctive footsteps; right foot dominant, slow, hip swinging walk along the metallic flooring.

As the door slides open, Thane lifts his head from his hands and sits upright, ramrod straight. He controls his urge to check for his gun, consciously aware that Kelly is no threat, while subconsciously understanding that his SMG _is_ within reach.

Kelly pauses in the main exit (two more safe exits, he reminds himself) and clears her throat. "Thane, may I come in?"

Always polite - she respects his privacy. Turning his head, he moves a hand to indicate the chair opposite him and smirks at her. "Come in, Kelly."

Forcing his hands to stay flat on the table, Thane tries to show his trust for her by leaving his soft throat exposed. Only his head moves as he watches her sit across from him.

Weak chin, plain flat forehead, no tones or markings. Limp hair instead of a shapely, sculpted head. Thane leans forward. Her lips at least, full and soft, are similar to a drell's. Perhaps if he closes his eyes…?

"I wanted to pop in, see how you were feeling," Kelly smiles, fluttering her strange eyelashes at him.

"Much better today," he lies smoothly. "And much better for your visit."

Her pupils dilate and her skin flushes as she looks down, blinking. Reaching out, he slides his fused fingers across her hand to cover it. Startled, she stares at him, biting her lower lip.

"Kelly," Thane stands and moves to her side, his body fluid, his natural grace emphasised by the cut of his coat as it swirls around his hips.

"Oh," she gazes up at him, as he towers above her, the redness in her skin increasing.

"I cannot thank you enough, for all that you have done for me and for my son." He kneels at her side, left hand reaching forward to stroke her cheek, his right hovering habitually above his pistol.

"Thane," Kelly breathes his name, her eyes closing.

Ghosting his fingers across her lower lip, he closes his eyes and takes as deep a breath as his advancing Keprals allows. There _have_ been other women since his wife died - he's no monk. Not many; a few shallow nights here and there when the loneliness became too unbearable. But always drell.

Now, he leans forward and presses his mouth against Kelly's, dragging his fused fingers through her hair to hold her neck. Thinking only of her soft lips, he tries to forget the foreign feel of her skin, the sharp taste of her human saliva. Her hands press against him, five fingers rubbing and stroking, playing with the zip at his chest.

She trembles against him and he understands that he guessed right. This is what she's wanted. Perhaps selfishly, it is _all_ that she's wanted while she's helped him with his son. But still… he owes her, and Thane Krios is a man who pays his debts.

Her pulse thuds underneath his fingers and he resists the instinctual urge to press down, to cause unconsciousness and to flee this situation. Instead, he opens his mouth and lets her tongue invade him, sighing softly to himself.

After a moment, he leans back and opens his eyes. His right hand relaxes from his pistol grip, and he forces his mouth into another knowing smirk.

"Oh Thane," Kelly opens her eyes, her lips swollen as she licks them. Her movements are slow, dream-like as she blinks at the bright light. "I didn't know you felt this way."

"I can only resist such a beautiful woman for so long, Kelly," Thane leans closer and kisses the tip of her nose. That's not so different from a drell's either.

He sits back onto his heels, hands caressing hers as she talks, her strange, multicoloured eyes gleaming. He has judged correctly, listening to her plans. She must have thought of this many times before, thought of him being _with_ her as she lay in a cold, empty sleeping pod.

He half meditates as she speaks, concentrating on the fluid on his lungs, trying to control the itch in his throat that precludes a cough. Her plans seem to involve some miracle cure by Mordin and visiting the Hanar homeworld; long stories of a distant future together.

He stays silent, not joining in her imaginings, smiling enigmatically until she finally pauses and asks what he thinks.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kisses it. Then he tells her the truth, leaving the interpretation up to her. "When I go to the sea, I shall be at peace."


	15. Chapter 15 Hammerhead

**Hammerhead**

"Who let _you_ in the driver's seat?" Garrus pauses in the entrance to the new vehicle, horrified by the sight of his commander strapped into the hammerhead, fondling the controls.

"Very funny Garrus," Shepard rolls her eyes at him and pats the passenger seat. "Get in, I'll teach you how to really drive this baby."

Garrus glances at Mordin who is strapped into a seat in the rear, a happy smile on the doctor's face as he fiddles with his omni-tool. Garrus moves to the passenger seat, not letting go of any handrails on the way. "Just take it steady, it's not Wrex in the back this time and it doesn't look as tough as the mako." He hits the wall next to him, wincing at the hollow sound the thin metal makes.

"Blah, blah, blah," Shepard frowns at him. "I never realised you were such an old woman, Vakarian." She taps on the controls, making the whole vehicle hop forward with a sharp jerk.

"_Heeey_," Garrus complains as he bangs his fringe against the ceiling. "Let me strap in first." He squeezes his broad form into the passenger seat, leaning across to kiss the top of Shepard's head on his way past.

"This is one sweet ride," Shepard strokes the console, grinning at him. He's seen that exact same expression before - the last time she took the mako out before he banned her from driving it. Cracked plates, broken bones and a whole new scar for Wrex. Chakwas had backed him up, much to Shepard's disgust.

"I can't believe Miranda let you out in this thing. Didn't she see any of the old mission reports about your skills in crashing?" Garrus fastens the harness tightly, gripping onto the handles as he glances across at Shepard, his mandibles drawn tight to his cheeks.

She's beaming to herself, snickering as she pushes the thrusters to full. "Pfft, you only had to rebuild it from scratch a few times." She laughs as the vehicle shoots forward out of the cargo bay at full speed. "Dropping down to Karumto, Miranda."

"Roger that Shepard," Miranda's voice crackles briefly over the radio.

"Five, Shepard. _Five_ times you ripped the belly off that beast." Garrus shakes his head, gripping the harness tightly as the hammerhead is buffeted in the wind. "I spent most of the first mission under that vehicle, making sure it performed."

"Now most of your time spent under _Shepard_," Mordin chirps up from behind them. "Making sure _you_ perform."

"Mordin!" Shepard chokes out the words as she throws a glance at the salarian. "Have you been talking to Joker again?"

Garrus turns to glare, while holding on tightly as the ship lurches, but Mordin's smile is genuine.

"Yes, very perceptive Shepard! Sat together in mess hall. Told of many anecdotes," Garrus watches as the doctor taps on his chin with his finger. "Must ask Shepard, Alenko and chocolate pudding incident. What did...?"

"_Sooooo_, anyway," Shepard half shouts out, her voice much louder than usual. "How's the shields on this thing, Garrus?"

"Chocolate pudding?" Garrus asks, staring at the redness spreading along her cheeks. "Really Shepard. And why would Joker know about it?"

"In the Mako. Forgot security tapes," Mordin sounds positively gleeful. "Joker 'accidentally' shared tapes with crew."

"Goddamn it, I _knew_ it was Joker," she mutters, jabbing the controls.

"Wait, what? You and Alenko? In my mako?" Garrus growls. "I bet it was that time you told me to investigate that probe alone. I knew it was odd."

"Garrus, it was a long time ago," she reaches across to caress his cheek, her thumb rubbing across his mandible.

"Did you disinfect the seat? Chocolate? That's what the smell was?" Garrus stares out of the window at the billowing gases. "Wrex told me it was… Urgh." He shudders at the memory.

"Brace yourselves. Landing in 3…. 2…. Oof." Shepard gasps as the hammerhead levels out early.

Garrus is slammed against his harness, the muscles in his right shoulder creaking at the force. Behind him, he hears Mordin squeak as the vehicle scrapes along the edge of a canyon.

"Damn, I love this," Shepard beams at him as she clips another outcropping. The vehicle screams and bounces away, rattling Garrus against the straps. "Why aren't you scanning?"

"The scanning systems are inoperable," Garrus inspects the dials. "No shields either. Is this thing even ready for use? Where did you get it from?"

"Oh, cost me a few credits, picked it up cheap the other day from the Cerberus Network. Good, isn't it?" Shepard ducks her head as she flies under a ledge.

"I miss the mako," Garrus grumbles. "New does _not_ mean better."

But as he watches Shepard piloting the vessel, _badly_ he reminds himself, at least she's happy. She's been distracted. Trying to get the crew ready for the main mission, solving the galaxy's ills. If he didn't know her better, he'd think she had a saviour complex.

While he rarely let her in the driving seat again after the incident with the strange cow and the crashed probe, he knows she loves it – smashing into, around and over things. His _plates_ don't love it though, he thinks, rubbing a sore elbow that's cracked against the window. But, he purrs softly as she cackles, it's worth it.

Mordin doesn't sound so sure. Garrus can hear a series of yelps and whimpers coming from the back. Really bad choice of companion for their first trip out; should've brought Grunt. He's so wet behind the ears, he needs more experience.

"There," Garrus points to a path towards the south. "The computer says it's across that gap. Wait, Shepard…" Garrus looks on in horror as she sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates.

There's a long, narrow path to their target, but Shepard has aimed the hammerhead towards a large gap, with a tiny rock platform in the middle. Technically, it _is_ a shortcut, as long as you don't mind flirting with falling, lava and death.

Garrus examines the panels in front of himself hastily, looking for some kind of speed boost. As Shepard sucks in her breath to take the jump, Garrus plots the trajectory in his head. Too short, way too short.

Slamming the only button that looks even remotely possible, the vehicle lurches as the booster jets kick in, thrusting the hammerhead forward to bounce across the rock platform.

"Woohoo!" Shepard cries, her eyes glittering at she grins out of the window. "Now _that_ was fun."

"Adrenaline junkie," Mordin mutters from the back. "Heard of them, yes. Unnecessary danger. Shepard's behaviour? Shocking."

"It's fine doc," Shepard calls over her shoulder. "Not unnecessary, see? We're here?"

She slides the hammerhead to a stop before some huge, steel doors, one hand pointing out of the windscreen. She's panting to herself, her mouth open slightly, cheeks flushed. She looks beautiful.

"Impressive," Garrus murmurs, widening his mandibles at her, all complaints forgotten as she turns her gaze to him.

She unfastens her harness and slides along the seat. "Makes me feel alive," she murmurs, kissing his cheek, her hands sliding down his chest to pluck at his armour.

"Uh, doc?" Garrus calls to the back. "Why don't you go do the scanning stuff you need to do while we… ummm… fix the shields." Garrus tries not to purr too loudly as her hands reach for the clasps at his waist. "Take as long as you need."

#

Mordin is barely aware of the passage of time. Everyone else is so slow; he's used to adjusting his own timings to suit the unhurried races he deals with every day.

He reached the control centre without incident, after having found rich deposits of iridium. With enough information to keep him busy for a while, he moves to the sensors. Scanning them, he records the data available, humming happily to himself at the plethora of details.

Once satisfied with the information, he flips the sensors on. Moments later, the ground rumbles beneath his feet, the lava swirling outside.

"Mmm," Mordin clucks his tongue as he checks his omni-tool. "Regrettable. Power grid intensifies volcanic activity." The floor lurches again and Mordin sways.

Gathering his tools, he jogs back through the first room towards the hammerhead as fast as his thin legs can carry him. The vehicle itself seems to be swaying and bouncing, but not in time with the seismic shifts. "Interesting."

Mordin tilts his head as he dives into the body of the vehicle. "Shepard! Recommend instant take-off. Incoming lava increases probable chance of death by 87 percent."

A litany of curses erupts from the front, and he hears the rustling of clothes and the damp sound of human flesh moving against turian plating as Shepard shuffles back to the driver's seat, straightening her clothing. Garrus is peering over the back of the seat, his mandibles held tight as he growls.

Sighing, Mordin drops his head into his hands. Hormone driven species. Constant need to mate highly inappropriate. The thought of Samara's serene face flashes into his mind and he pauses for a brief second, before allowing himself a small smile. Asari much simpler. 'Embrace Eternity'. No messy fluids. Much more acceptable.

.

* * *

_This is not intended to mock female drivers – this is just a bit of fun and a reminder than Commander Jane Shepard is not perfect at everything. (Just most things. Like not dying.)_


	16. Chapter 16 Lantar

**Lantar**

Shepard is asleep, hair sticking up, mouth half open as she snores. Garrus has his head propped on one hand as he watches her, the other stroking gently along her shoulder. The scars on her cheeks have finally faded away to nothing and her beauty makes the breath catch in his throat. He has no idea how he got this lucky, but he'd never do anything to threaten what they have.

Garrus does not sleep for as long as she does, turians have no need to, but he usually enjoys relaxing beside her. Mostly he reads, sometimes he works out new calibrations for the Thanix on his omni-tool – but tonight, he has a different plan.

Squeezing her shoulder once more, he rolls off the bed, taking great care not to disturb her too much. The room is warm enough that he pads naked up to the smaller study part of her cabin without shivering, sharp talons clicking on the flooring.

Peering in at the hamster, Garrus watches Boo run. Whole body arched inside the wheel, the rodent spins it with what seems to be a gleeful exuberance. Garrus purrs softly for a moment before turning to his real quarry. Shepard's console.

She doesn't mind him using it, even though it has a greater security clearance than most other consoles on the ship. She trusts him, often letting him use it while she showers or watches her bad war vids. But he's never had chance to do _this_ and it's been irritating him. Like an itch under a plate he can't scratch.

Firing up her console, he throws one last glance at her. Still sleeping, still snoring gently. Good. He's not too sure if she'd approve of this or not and he'd prefer not to find out.

He begins to search the few scant records about his time on Omega. It's such a lawless place, there are few official records of the activity there. But he's worked with less back in C-Sec; a little bit of investigation, a few hacks of some personal files and using his own deductive skills, he always starts to see a pattern.

Lantar Sidonis. A rush of hot anger fills him at the name, his mandibles pulled tight to his chin. First Saren betrays the galaxy, and then Sidonis betrays Archangel - _him_. What _is_ it about turians? What happened to submitting to the greater good? Garrus stares at the C-Sec photo of Sidonis, taken when he gave himself up after Shepard let him go. Garrus can barely recognise the cocky, confident young turian who'd helped him wage war on Omega's gangs.

They had been dark days, for sure, after Shepard's death. Garrus has trouble remembering much from the first year. Nothing at all for the first few months and he doesn't even try. Then just a few fragments of conversations, snatches of arguments as he'd burned his nest with the Spectre trainers, with C-Sec and his own father.

Sometime during that blank period in his memory, he'd ended up on Omega, planning to drink himself to death. But before he'd even started, Omega itself had got to him.

Surrounded by cowardly villainous scum, he'd soon found ways to help the oppressed masses. And he wasn't alone in his desire for change. It was surprising how quickly he'd built up his team, Sidonis being one of the first to join. These people had lived for so long under a yoke of lawless tyranny, they screamed out for a chance to rebel.

And yet, looking at these logs, it seems as though Sidonis had been dirty for months. Correlating the dates of certain merc sightings with his own missions, thinking about ones where Sidonis had stayed behind, or had been out scouting, they matched. So many dates matched.

Garrus can't help the low growl in his chest, his hands shaking with fury as he realises the extent of the betrayal. Months of smiling to their faces, Sidonis laughing as he joined in the planning of missions while constantly sneaking off to report to his real masters.

Closing his eyes, Garrus takes a number of deep breaths, trying to control his racing heart. The meditations that justicar Samara has taught him and Shepard seem to work, helping him to relax and push his anger aside.

With a final deep exhale, he opens his eyes and he peers at the screen again. There's more, there _has_ to be more. He knows that he's a better judge of character than that. Sidonis might have been weak, but to put his neck above all of the others in the team? Now that Garrus has had time to think calmly, he's sure there's more to the story than Sidonis let on. And Garrus wants to find out the whole truth.

There doesn't seem to be any supplementary data though, as hard as he searches. Shipping logs, personal files… It's been over two hours and he can hear the change in Shepard's breathing. She's going to wake soon and he's found nothing.

Perhaps there is nothing to find. He made a mistake; Sidonis is a selfish, pathetic coward. There _is _no redeeming story here.

He's almost meditating again as he considers this, his talons flying across Shepard's keyboard. Perhaps he's not as good at reading people as he has always thought. Maybe C-Sec was right, he is too cocky, he isn't as good as...

There, something odd. Garrus pauses, his subconscious having picked out an anomaly from the streaming mass of info. He examines the bank details, digging deeper as he follows the money. Something is wrong here, something Sidonis was hiding.

It's well hidden, but nothing that can stop Garrus when he's in full flow. He cracks the protection on the files, working his way through the security with a simple precision he's not had reason to use in a while. He's missed this, investigating, using his brain instead of his rifle.

On the screen, there's a trail of money, siphoned off in small amounts, but Garrus has followed it all to a single private account. In there, money, photos and correspondence is stored, including a few blinking unread messages.

Garrus flicks through the photos, taking in the aging turians in the picture, the hordes of small, skinny children running naked in the background. He's silent, the tension seeping out of his shoulders as he finally understands his colleague. Lantar was the sole provider for a wide extended clan – a family devastated by the First Contact war.

The new messages are heartbreaking and Garrus feels his hands shake as he reads of their confusion, then sadness as the family try to find Lantar, then realise where he is. The messages are full of a desperate hope, speaking of crippled relatives finding work, or selling their belongings to pay for food.

Garrus hasn't moved for some time when Shepard wraps her arms around his shoulders, leaning over to plant a kiss on his unscarred mandible. He lifts a hand to close the screen, but she covers it with her own, leaning closer to look at the messages.

"Lantar?" She asks.

"Lantar Sidonis," Garrus rumbles, the coolness pressing against his back soothing him.

She's silent for a few moments, before her hand moves to the console, flipping between some images and messages. He flutters his mandibles, indecision gripping him as he moves to close the terminal again. His chest burns, shame, guilt, he's not even sure what emotion is stronger.

He'd ranted to Shepard so many times about Sidonis betraying him, calling Lantar weak and selfish when everything Lantar had done was to try and protect his family. He was wrong; stupid perhaps in trusting the mercs, but…

Garrus sighs as Shepard keeps looking, now examining the horde of children playing in the dirt.

He'd do _anything_ to protect Shepard, he knows that now. What if it meant betraying Miranda, Jacob, Grunt, if it meant Shepard would be safe? He'd like to think that he wouldn't even consider it, but he's not entirely sure.

"Garrus," her voice is soft, soothing as she pauses on a letter from Lantar's grandparents. "Would you like to set up some kind of fund? Anonymous perhaps? You know how much money we siphoned from Cerberus before the split, it's not a problem. If you want to."

Garrus can't remember a time when Shepard wasn't a major part of his life. And right now that's good. That's _perfect_.

Purring deep in his chest, he turns to face her, pulling her into his arms. His throat is too thick to speak, so he expresses his feelings in the only way he knows, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers.

One day he really should explain this to her. But not yet. Right now, he's content to just hold her.


	17. Chapter 17 Relaxation

_Many mandibles and bananas to Lalaith Raina for her ideas. (Especially the daydream... cough... I'd never have thought of that by myself...)_

* * *

**Relaxation**

The others have been driving him crazy all morning. Shepard has decided to drop into Illium to buy some supplies and maybe have a relaxing day, but it seems the crew are determined to ruin it.

Mordin seems to think he's subtle when he scans Garrus, then scans Shepard and hums to himself, a wicked smile on his face. Garrus has snarled at him for it, but Mordin always feigns ignorance, his muttered catchphrase of '_For Science!_' doing nothing for Garrus' temper.

After an asari gropes him, Grunt mopes about the lack of female krogan company on the Normandy, kicking out at objects and stamping his feet. The youngster rolls his eyes and huffs every time Garrus touches Shepard, irritating the turian no end.

Zaeed has been foul tempered about Jessie for a week since he caught Tali 'touching it'. She claims not to have realised it was his, but they've been fighting for days, resorting to sarcastic comments and swearing at each other.

Garrus feels the muscles under his back plates tensing even tighter as Miranda and Jack start _another_ argument. Turning to face the two humans with a growl, he's about to let rip when Shepard places a cool hand on his forearm.

"Hey Garrus, look." She nods her head, indicating a store to the left of the shopping area. "Isn't it time to get your nails done again?"

Garrus stops glaring and looks at Shepard. She's pointing to a nearby salon, 'Galactic Paradise'. The glass has numerous pictures of people of all races with assorted make-up and beauty treatments.

"I suppose so," he grumbles in agreement, eyeing the bright colours and false smiles in the pictures. "I am having to be careful when I touch you right now."

Mordin makes a 'harrumph' noise and raises his omni-tool again. Garrus whips his head round, mandibles flared, ready to bite the salarian's head off, but Shepard just laughs.

"Well, I'm used to needing a little medi-gel for the tooth marks, but my back's been shredded lately. Want to go while I finish getting the supplies?" She strokes his hand, her voice soothing.

Garrus peers inside the busy shop at the shadows moving behind the glass. "I think they're all women in there. Or asari. They probably can't do turian talons."

Shepard taps a note on the wall and reads out a few lines. "_Galactic Paradise caters to both male and females of all species_… oh look, and_ turian's a speciality_. You'll be fine."

"Shepard, uh…" He glances in the window again, mandibles fluttering in agitation. "I'm not sure. I can wait till the Citadel, no rush."

"What's up with big blue?" Jack turns her attention to him. "Bad kitty needs to be de-clawed and the space whores are too scary? That's fucking adorable." She cackles loudly, drawing stares from the other pedestrians.

Garrus growls to himself, his shoulders slumping in defeat as Shepard pulls his arm, guiding him into the shop doorway.

"You lot, wait here, I'll be back in two minutes," Shepard shouts over her shoulder as she pushes open the door. "Miranda, get looking for those spares we need."

Garrus can hear Jack continuing to hurl insults at him, each word tightening the muscles in his back another notch.

"Welcome to the Galactic Paradise!" A young asari bounces towards them, her body barely covered by a flowing transparent shift. Her bright blue eyes flicker from him to Shepard. "How can I fulfil your desires today?"

"Him." Shepard puts on her best commander voice as she folds her arms and inclines her head towards him. "Nails need trimming, maybe a massage. He's tense. Grumpy. What can you do for a turian?"

Garrus gives Shepard his best hurt expression while the asari lifts his hand to inspect his talons.

She pouts as she tests the sharpness against her gloved fingers. "Oh yes, yes I see. He's so…" she shudders and blinks at Shepard, "lethal. Oh my. And this armour." She fans herself with one hand, licking her lips. "Grumpy you say? Well massages _are_ my speciality. Did you need a 'fullservice' massage to help with that stress?"

Garrus doesn't understand the look that passes between the asari and Shepard, but he recognises the frostiness in Shepard's reply and the fury in her gaze.

"_Just_ a massage, no speciality endings needed thank you," she growls, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning up to kiss his scarred cheek. "I'll be back soon. You make sure to keep your pants on, tiger."

"Shepard, what do you mean?" He hopes for an explanation, but she's gone, leaving him alone with the semi-naked asari who is now eyeing him up and down.

"Well, I guess I should hand you over to my turian colleagues, since your mate specified that you didn't need anything extra." She presses closer, her breasts resting against his arm. "Are you _sure_ you don't need it? I'll give you a discount." She coos up at him, one hand tracing the damage on his armour.

"Whatever Shepard said, that's what I want," Garrus is firm as he takes half a step back, pulling his arm away from her. Despite his intimacy with Shepard, humanoid forms still feel alien to him.

"Shepard?" A husky voice pipes up from the depths of the shop. "_Commander_ Shepard? That makes _this_ gorgeous hunk of plating Officer Garrus Vakarian."

A shapely figure steps out from the back room. Petite for a turian, she has a wide, supportive waist and a short, finely shaped fringe. She sashays down a few steps towards him, her eyes raking all over his body.

Garrus looks down at the floor, mandibles fluttering. He remembers how Shepard had described a female turian – something about peacocks and peahens, mating display versus camouflage. Turian males have longer fringes, iridescent plating and decorative facial tattoos. Females by comparison are a touch smaller, lacking the spikes and spurs of the males and having much paler skin tones.

She's teased him about it a few times, asking if he's 'fluffed his feathers' for any females, if he's ever sung to attract a female. He'd listened to it the way he always listens her good natured teasing, with a smile and a laugh - before taking her breath from her in ways no human male ever could.

Garrus realises the danger of thinking of intimate moments with Jane as the turian female is inspecting him. She's leaning close to him, wearing a traditional perfume that he's grown up associating with adults and sex and…

With a start, he realises that his body is reacting to his thoughts in ways that are _entirely_ inappropriate while wearing tight armour flanked by two unfamiliar women.

He closes his eyes and thinks of Mordin. Mordin naked. Possibly with Zaeed. Both kissing a varren. That does it; suppressing a small shudder he feels his lower plating settling back into place.

"What's he booked in for?" The beautiful turian purrs as she strokes a talon along his chest.

"Massage. Manicure." He rumbles before the asari can answer.

The turian female growls, glaring at the asari who nods back, her expression glum. "That's _it_? What a wasted opportunity, Officer Vakarian. This _is_ Illium, known for…"

"Just a massage and a manicure," he repeats. Mordin parades behind his eyes as Garrus imagines more tattoos than ever before on Zaeed's naked flesh. Human men are _ugly_; he grimaces.

"Fine, if you're going to be like that." With a sigh, the female takes his hand and pulls him along into the darker shadows. "We'll start with a Minerva Bath. Hot water and salts direct from Palaven, with jets specifically to massage a turian's plating."

Garrus follows her into a smaller, tiled room. It's empty apart from a large bath in the centre of the floor, scented steam rising to the ceiling. The aroma alone helps him to relax and for the first time since Shepard suggested it, he thinks this might be a good idea.

"I'll be back in half an hour. Relax, enjoy. Once your plates are softened, I'll sort out someone to massage you since you didn't want _my_ services." The turian female exhales noisily at him as she closes the door, leaving him alone.

Garrus shucks his armour off, leaving on his small black undershorts. He remembers Shepard passing them to him this morning and wonders if she planned this. Probably. Shaking his head as he eases himself into the hot water, he marvels at her deviousness.

Lying back, his limbs slide into the shaped tub, and he realises that this is designed for a turian. Although, he thinks as a number of jets blast hot water at him, a female turian. He wriggles, but he's a touch too tall for the tub and he can't shift. Jets that would normally massage a turian female's back are aimed directly at his sensitive waistline.

Unable to move, he gives in and closes his eyes, imagining that it's Shepard's hands caressing him. Purring softly, he feels the tension in his back melting away as the scented steam bathes his face.

Garrus remembers the deviants on Palaven, those soldiers who, after Shanxi, had turned to humans instead of turians for mates. His father had been vocal in his disgust at their perversion, cautioning Garrus to look hard at those males, that a _true_ turian would never _consider_ interspecies intercourse. His mandibles widen of their own accord as he imagines his father's disgust at his current situation. Not only is Garrus mating with Shepard, he's also bonded with her.

Shepard. Thinking about her makes him purr louder, relishing the jets massaging his responsive flesh. They'd had a strange night last night. Incredibly enjoyable, but definitely strange.

Shepard had found his old C-Sec uniform, not that he'd ever worn it, and she'd laid it out on the bed with a strange gleam in her eye. He'd played along with her request, using his handcuffs, telling her off for being bad, acting like 'Officer Vakarian'. She'd loved it. He'd never seen her so submissive, and it had awoken some primal instinct to claim and dominate. He'd bitten her harder than ever before as she'd whispered about being a bad girl, begging to be arrested. After he'd handcuffed her...

Garrus doesn't even notice his lower plates moving, he's so wrapped up in his memories of her. He's purring louder than ever, hips moving unconsciously with the water when he hears a clash of metal.

Opening his eyes, leaning over the side of the bath for his gun, Garrus stops when he sees a muscular male turian wheeling in a massage bed.

"Hello, Officer Vakarian, is it?" The masseuse rumbles to him, rubbing his hands together. "I hope you won't arrest me for cold hands, ho ho."

Garrus blinks rapidly, the male's words mixing in with his daydreams. The masseuse continues to set up the bed, holding up a blue towel. Garrus notes with horror that the masseuse is only wearing a tiny pair of shorts.

"Time for your massage. Come on now. We're all men here. Not like I haven't seen some bare plates before." The masseuse snaps the towel, his small eyes peering at Garrus.

That's when Garrus realises what affect the dreams and the bath have had on him. He tries thinking of a naked salarian again, but it makes little difference. "Uh, can I stay in here a while longer?" Garrus pleads, plastering a fake smile on his face as he widens his mandibles at the guy.

"No can do. Massage, then a manicure," the turian snaps the towel again. "Let's go Officer, the eggs will be hatching at this rate."

Garrus peers around the room frantically, but there's no way to do this easily. He stands and twists in one movement, hoping that, combined with his own undershorts, he has moved quickly enough to hide his condition. Half hopping, he throws himself face down on the bed, barely containing a purr as his heated flesh touches the cool metal.

Behind him, Garrus hears the turian snort a laugh, but he closes his eyes, confident that his condition has been successfully covered up. The masseuse walks to his side, dropping the towel across his hips.

"Shame to cover up such a cute ass, Officer," the guy purrs. "Lucky for you I don't swing that way. I'm surprised Lenni let you out of her grip though."

"I didn't want the full service," Garrus mumbles, trying to ignore how good the cool metal feels against his skin. He's thinking about batarians mating, and it's helping, but far too slowly.

"So you say _now_," the masseuse dribbles warm oil over his shoulders. "But the things Lenni can do..." the turian purrs to himself. "She's so flexible. And that _waist_. Mmhmm."

"My mate is way more flexible," Garrus thinks of his surprise at some of the positions they've tried out. Shepard's hips, so different from a turian's, allow almost infinite experimentation. And they take every opportunity to experiment.

"Oh really?" The turian sounds interested as he slaps more oil across Garrus' back. "I heard you came in with a human."

Garrus tries not to flinch, but in his current condition it feels far too awkward for another almost-naked male to be touching him. The tension that had melted in the hot water once more knots the muscles in his back and shoulders.

"Relax, I'm not going to bite." The masseuse leans closer, his mandibles tickling Garrus' fringe.

Garrus shudders at the mental image of the male biting his fringe, and growls deep in his chest. The masseuse laughs, scraping his talons over Garrus' limbs in no particular, therapeutic way.

"This is our most popular massage oil. For exceptional skin roughening exfoliation it combines various grades of sand, nourishing oils and essential oils to leave your skin moisturized, tough and strong," the male drawls, sounding as if he's reading out an advert. "That side's done, roll over." He slaps Garrus on his rump with a chuckle.

"Uh, I'll just go have my nails done, it's fine." Garrus doesn't move, hoping the masseuse will leave.

"Nonsense, five more minutes." The male whips the towel off, leaving Garrus feeling even more exposed. "Come on, roll over."

Garrus makes a move to roll over, swiftly reaching down to position himself inside his shorts. Using the waistband to hold himself in place, he rolls onto his back and pulls the towel across his hips, hoping that it's not obvious. He peeks at the other male, checking to see if he's got away with it.

"Oh my, Officer. You really _did_ enjoy my massage. Perhaps this is why you didn't want Lenni's attention?" The masseuse chuckles as he eyes the bulge under the towel.

Garrus lies back, his fringe thudding against the metal bed painfully as he groans. His shoulders ache, his back is full of knots, and now he can feel a headache building. Great.

#

Shepard barks her orders out, telling the others to head back to the Normandy as she hurries across the wide arcade. She can't get Liara's expression out of her mind – the look of shock, then amusement, that had crossed her old friend's face when Shepard said where Garrus was.

Liara had turned a strange purple colour as she'd laughed about the place not being a massage parlour as such, but more of a knocking shop. Her laughing had stopped abruptly as Shepard had gone a few strange colours of her own.

"Damned asari, everything is about sex," Shepard growls as she pushes her way past a wheezing volus. "All he needed was his stupid nails filing."

She slams the door open dramatically as she strides into the shop, one hand hovering over her assault rifle as she glares into the darkened interior.

As her eyes adjust to the gloom, she can just make out the sight of Garrus Vakarian, vigilante of Omega, badass of the Normandy, slumped in a chair with his mandibles drooping. Surrounding him four half-naked female turians flutter about, filing the talons on both his hands and his feet, giggling as they touch him. The young asari who welcomed them seems to be enjoying massaging a fragrant oil into his fringe and forehead, pressing her naked flesh against his cowl as she does so. Garrus himself is blinded, a wet mixture of bananas and some weird purple fruit spread on his mandibles and eyes.

Garrus seems to know she's there, sniffing the air and turning to gaze blindly at her as if she's rescuing him. Which, Shepard guesses looking at the women draped all over him, she probably is.

"Shepard! I..." He stutters to a stop, but she hears the pleading in his voice.

"I hope you've finished with _my_ turian," Shepard pulls out her rifle, casually inspecting the level of the current heat sink. "And that, as I clearly requested, his pants stayed on at all times."

"They did," Garrus wipes his eyes and squeezes past the women, who seem to be frozen as they stare at Shepard, to grab the last few items of his armour. "Massage and manicure, no special endings. However much they might have tried," he growls out the last as he pulls on his boots.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Shepard levels the gun out towards the asari, fiddling with the sight. She ignores the small squeak as she lowers the weapon, giving them her best Udina 'fuck you' smile.

She watches Garrus head to the door, pulling on his gloves. "Thanks guys," she flips them a credit chip large enough to cover it. "Sorry, not much of a tip."

Shepard follows Garrus out of the door just as the whispering starts.

"See! I told you she's Commander Shepard. That makes him Officer Vakarian. _He's_ famous."

"I bet he is. Did you see the _size_ of him? Phew... Enormous!"

Just before the door swings shut, the room erupts into girlish giggles and Shepard feels her cheeks turning purple again. "Fucking asari..."

————————————-

_Due to work and other writing, I'm afraid that I'll be cutting back to updating on Mondays and Fridays only. I've still got lots of ideas to get through, so it's not done yet._


	18. Chapter 18 Male Bonding

**Male Bonding**

Garrus has got much better at understanding human expressions. In his time following Jane, he's learned the nuances that make up the majority of human emotions, so he can read other people too. Like the expression on Alenko's face right now. To a turian with less experience of humans, they might think his face is only contorted with fury. But Garrus can see past the mud-splattered red cheeks, and curling lips, to the guilt and jealousy in the human's eyes.

Not that it stops Garrus from landing another punch, knocking his opponent back before Alenko can release another biotic burst. Garrus is an experienced fighter with a high pain threshold, but biotics _hurt, _and he's already been thrown across the room more times than he can count on one hand.

Alenko flops back, his raised fist dropping into the soft earth. Another human expression, surprise, flits across his face. Placing both knees on Alenko's chest, Garrus flares his mandibles into a grin as he rubs mud into the human's face, then braces his hands on the human's narrower shoulders to keep him flat.

Garrus has often sparred with Shepard and Wrex in the past, but Alenko had never joined in. Watching from the shadows of the cargo bay in the SR-1, the human biotic had always shaken his head when Shepard had invited him to spar. She'd always been confused, but Garrus had known why – had smelt why – Alenko was there for one reason alone – to watch her.

Wrex had also known why the biotic had just watched; the krogan had found it highly amusing – these 'human mating rituals'. Wrex had asked Alenko if he could even beat Shepard in a fight, and the poor human had blushed and stammered something about being unable to fight a superior officer. Garrus remembers feeling that the lieutenant was too hung up on regulations to work well with Jane, anyway.

Jane. His mandibles flutter as he swipes at the mud covering his brow and looks across the park to where she's sitting. Kelly and Tali are laughing and staring, but Jane…

Once more Garrus is stuck by how good he's gotten at reading emotions. While the smile plastering her face is wide, her eyes are signalling to him that her real emotion is something else – disappointment.

Ashamed, his own rage abates somewhat and Garrus looks at what he's doing. He is fighting in public with his old colleague, his _friend_, Kaidan Alenko, like the kind of hoodlum he might have arrested when he worked for C-Sec.

They'd spent months together, the three of them, taking on everything from infinite numbers of geth to an 'all-powerful' reaper. Garrus can't even _begin_ to count the number of times he relied on Kaidan to keep him alive, to cover his back as he covered Shepard's. What the hell is he _thinking_?

"Alenko," he doesn't loosen his grip, but he stops exerting pressure. "I'm sorry."

Kaidan still struggles, not even looking at him. Blue light flickers along his torso and Garrus feels the small static changes in the air as the mass effect field builds.

"Kaidan, listen to me. I'm _sorry_," Garrus repeats, loosening his grip and sitting back onto his spurs.

The human stops struggling, but his brow is furrowed as he glares at Garrus. "What?" He rasps.

"I'm sorry I've been such an ass," Garrus sighs and drops his hands to his sides, leaving Kaidan room to sit up, rubbing his throat.

"Damn right you've been an ass," the human growls.

Garrus takes a deep breath, the image of Jane's disappointment burned on his retinas. "We both have. And it's stupid. And it's got to stop. We're _friends_."

The biotic eyes him, sitting up and rubbing a hand down his chest to remove some of the thick mud. "I… I… Shit."

Garrus laughs, shaking his head. "What the hell have we been doing these last few days?"

"Acting like kids?" Kaidan grins at him, the whites of his eyes and his broad, sparkling teeth stark against the grey mud.

"Yeah that's kind of what Jane… uh, Shepard's been telling us." Garrus stands up, holding out a hand. "Sorry."

"Me too," Kaidan takes his hand and uses it to pull himself upright. "I'd had a bad day, and then Anderson assigned me to the Normandy against my wishes. But that was no excuse to take it out on you."

"Bad day?" Garrus pats his shoulder, then takes half a step back.

"Yeah, Chloe and me. Well," Kaidan looks away, his mouth tightening into a line, "my own fault. When you guys went through the relay, I guess I lost it. I wasn't good to be around."

"Keelah, they've stopped," Tali calls out. "Watching that has been the most fun I've had in weeks."

"Since your nerve stimulation programme broke, Tali?" Garrus calls out, pleased to hear Kaidan's soft chuckle.

There's an irate squeal as Tali stands, her hand moving behind her back towards her shotgun, but Shepard holds out a restraining arm.

"Tali, Kelly. Shore leave is over. Report back to the Normandy on the double." Shepard makes her way towards the patch of mud, not flinching as her armoured feet sink into the soft dirt.

Garrus doesn't pay any attention to the other two women as they scurry away, watching Jane stalking closer. Her expression is blank as she pauses in front of them, folding her arms.

Garrus keeps still, watching Kaidan fidget out of the corner of his eye. The biotic runs his hands through his muddy hair. It's the first time Garrus has seen it flat and it makes the human look strange.

Jane clears her throat, making both men stand that little bit straighter. "So, are you two done now? Can we get on with the _slightly_ important mission to save the galaxy from those big, scary, reapers?"

"Yeah, Shepard, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm good. _We're_ good," Kaidan glances towards Garrus, then drops his gaze to the floor, his hands still twisting in his muddy hair.

"Garrus? How's your 'testosterone'?" Jane switches her gaze to him and he catches the hint of a smile in her eyes.

"I think I managed to beat it down to an acceptable level. Five nights sleeping on the couch might have helped my understanding of _that _concept." He tilts his head, mud sliding down his fringe and dripping into his cowl. "Though a shower might be a good idea right now."

Jane finally grins at them both, relaxing her arms. "Perhaps you could do that in the _communal_ shower?"

"In your dreams, commander." Kaidan laughs, shaking his head, moving towards the piles of clothes.

Garrus waits a moment, letting the human male get out of earshot. "I'm sorry Jane. I don't know what I've been doing."

"I understand," she reaches up, sliding a finger through the grey clay stuck to his mandible. "It wasn't okay by any means, but I understand. After Horizon, after the tension of the fight at the collector base, you needed a target and you picked Kaidan." She frowns, dropping her hand. "What I don't understand is why _he_ acted like that…"

"The day he came aboard, I think he broke up with Dr Michel." Garrus shrugs a shoulder. "Bad timing. Me being an ass didn't help."

"On. Poor Kaidan," she glances at the biotic before turning back. "The main thing is you're talking again," she inclines her head. "C'mon, I understand there's some hot naked turian action due on the Normandy."

He laughs, shaking his head a little to spray flecks of the drying mud onto her hair and face. "Oh no," he purrs at her shocked expression. "Now you need a shower too. Oops."

Shepard stares at him, her eyebrows drawing together as she rubs at the clay on her cheek. "You really are going to _pay_ for that, Vakarian."

"Can't wait," he widens his mandibles into a grin before hurrying towards Kaidan to scoop up his armour, trying not to get mud inside.

Shepard breezes past them, her own boots covered in sludge. Garrus grabs a couple of pieces of armour for Kaidan, then indicates that the biotic follow her.

"So, uh, how are things?" Garrus mutters, staring ahead at Shepard.

"Good, you know. Been working out, doing some biotics training."

"Ah, training. Yeah." Garrus is trying to think. He's spent days, weeks, with Kaidan in the past, and he has no idea what they used to talk about. He's worked his way through all of the conversation openers he'd have used with Wrex, when Kaidan distracts him by placing a hand on his arm.

"Garrus? Why is Shepard talking to an _advertisement_?"

#

"I've just got clean, and you want me to get filthy again?" Garrus grumbles, lying back on a towel, his plates running with cooling water that drips onto the mattress.

"Shush Vakarian. I told you that you were going to pay. It's not like this is really so terrible, is it?" Jane raises an eyebrow as she kneels naked on the end of the bed, her skin shiny and damp.

"Did you take your tablet?" Garrus eyes the brown goo in her hand, his talon clutching the sheets. It smells disgusting. Human food always does.

"Yes I did thank you, mood killer. Now, lie back and shut up." The bed bounces a little as Jane crawls closer, a huge smile on her face. "I'm about to educate you as to some of the more _inventive_ uses for chocolate pudding."

His mandibles quiver as she dips her fingers into the brown goo – chocolate pudding, he corrects himself – and spreads it all over his chest.

He's still not too sure about it, until she leans back and licks her fingers and he realises he's never seen her look sexier. His plates shift, and her answering smile as she notices it is all he needs to start purring.

#

Shepard lets the door to the port observatory hiss closed behind her, leaving the chirpy thief to settle in. She had expected Kasumi to travel light, but there are crates, statues, and paintings galore scattered around the bar area, waiting to be unpacked.

"Joker's gonna be pissed that he can't stay drinking till dawn anymore," she grins to herself. "Probably a good thing."

Heading towards the elevator, she recognises Kaidan's throaty chuckle coming from the mess hall. Curious, she heads around the corner to see Kaidan and Garrus sitting at a table. Kaidan is speaking, but it's a little too quiet for her to hear.

Stepping closer, she catches the end of his sentence.

"…turns the pillows over in the morning, so you can't see the wet drool marks."

Garrus snorts. "I'd never noticed that. Too busy laughing at her snoring. Turians don't snore; it's adorable."

"You will _not_ be saying it's adorable if she gets near pollen without any meds. Sounds more like a krogan mating… Oh and if she –"

"Gentlemen," Shepard clears her throat, watching Kaidan blush a deep red and Garrus pull his mandibles close. "I'm glad to see that you're getting on so well, but we have a mission, remember? Comm. room, five minutes."

The two men nod, but don't get up as she heads away. Just as the elevator doors close, she hears a long, drawn out snoring noise, following by Garrus snickering.

'At least they're talking', she sighs, rubbing her forehead


	19. Chapter 19 Snippets

**Snippets**

Kasumi has been aboard the Normandy for three weeks, two days and nine hours. In that time, she's explored every nook and cranny, learning her way around the ship. Miranda's room has the most interesting items – post-relay artwork, some asari statuettes – but Shepard's cabin has the most valuable pieces; her medals alone would set up an ordinary person for life. But Kasumi is anything but ordinary.

She's not deliberately _trying_ to be a voyeur, but the rumours around the ship imply that the commander spends every minute of her downtime 'playing' with her turian. Every evening, after Shepard's infamous rounds of the ship, the couple disappear off together.

Kasumi has never seen a turian naked before; she's intrigued. Not that she particularly wants to catch them in the act or anything, just, well maybe a _quick_ glimpse of those broad shoulders, and that cute butt without all the armour. An idea of what all those plates look like as they spread down his chest.

Pausing in the vents just outside the cabin, Kasumi hears the commander moan. Unable to suppress her grin, Kasumi crawls a little closer, peeping out of the mesh at the room.

She's surprised, and if she's honest, mildly disappointed to see Shepard fully dressed, sitting at her terminal tapping away. Garrus at least is half-naked as he lies on their bed, reading one of Kasumi's books. She grins, Thane borrowed almost half her collection, Garrus the other half.

Garrus isn't what she expected though. Broad body, tiny wasp waist and a silver torso that glints in the soft light. While Kasumi has never considered a turian before and probably still wouldn't, she gets an idea of his appeal.

"So, Alenko's armour…" Garrus says.

"This again?" Shepard moans once more. "Kaidan's been here for _weeks_ and he's all you talk about."

"It's just we did some training earlier, and he was wearing armour – something about my talons scratching him – and, well, I'm confused. What's the point of those circular plates on his ass?"

Kasumi hides a smile as Shepard almost chokes on a sip of tea. The commander puts down her mug, laughing. "I _am_ going to worry about you two if you're checking out his ass…"

"I'm not the _only_ one wondering," Garrus continues, his mandibles pulled tight. "I heard Goldstein and Kelly talking about his 'ass grabbing plates'."

"Goldstein is it?" Shepard turns to face him then, and Kasumi notes the change in her posture, the tightening in her shoulders. "I've heard she has a thing for biotics…"

"_Anyway_, that armour. Why?"

Kasumi leans closer, intrigued, as Shepard recounts an 'N7' barracks anecdote.

"The tale goes that the male designers were drunk on one Friday afternoon and thought they were working on the _female_ armour. Someone suggested the 'ass grabbing' plates, as you call them, someone else found it highly amusing to add them to the design document. Monday morning, no-one remembers the drunken giggling, and the design is submitted. Before you know it – that armour is in full production. Ten thousand suits of male armour with lovely little plates just right for grabbing."

Kasumi slips away, their laughter following her down the narrow vent. Perhaps she ought to drop in and visit the staff commander sometime, see exactly what he's got to get Goldstein so worked up.

Sliding down the maintenance tube towards her own room, she hears the low rumble of water in the men's shower. Humming to herself, she wriggles to the mesh and peeks out.

Kasumi puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. This is a prize worth seeking – a naked Jacob, covered in soap suds. Muscular torso, broad arms and thighs and _those abs_...

"This is more like it," she sighs, greybox flickering to life as she records the memory. This is definitely something she might want to re-visit.

#

Shepard's not sure if this is a nightmare or not. She can't take her eyes off the screen, while at the same time her mind is screaming at her, her feet wanting to run out of the room.

Someone clears their throat, and Shepard looks up, her mouth still hanging open in surprise. There, in front of her, stands her tormenter – the sick, evil mastermind who just handed her the offending datapad.

"Shepard. Spoken of nephew before," Mordin holds out his hand towards another salarian of a similar skin tone. "Top student. Very smart. Helps with the production of educational material."

"Welcome to the Normandy," she mutters, forcing a smile, mentally trying to process 'e_ducational_ material'.

"Favourite uncle," the younger salarian buzzes about beside Mordin. "Provided post-graduate research into cross-species sexual intercourse."

Mordin points a thin finger to the datapad in her hand. "Nephew evolved raw data into vid channel. Over five trillion subscribers."

Shepard nods, her fake smile unmoving, still half in shock at the images she's just seen.

"Science," the nephew nods. Shepard notes that while he looks very similar to Mordin, he doesn't have the same forehead markings as his uncle. A voice at the back of her mind wonders what that means. "Take vids of interspecies sex – like the female drell/male krogan one on your datapad – add scientific commentary. Billions of hits."

"Enriching young minds!" Mordin beams at his nephew.

"Demystifying sexual interfacing," the nephew grins back.

Shepard glances back at the datapad. Luckily the vid has finished, though she saw enough that she doesn't think she can ever look at a krogan the same way. _Unluckily_ it's automatically started onto to the next vid in the series.

"Oh, increase volume for this one," Mordin's nephew taps her datapad. "Uncle recorded vid, commentary recorded by me."

"Mordin 'recorded' this..." Shepard gapes at the frank and intimate video of a salarian and an asari. The camera is carefully positioned not to give away the identity of the salarian, but the skin tone is incredibly familiar.

"Yes. Always found asari intriguing, so when..."

"Shush, listen to the commentary," his nephew places a finger over his lips.

_Mutual sexual attraction established, now a process of initialization as they sexually interface_.

Shepard looks on in shock as the salarian, male, she notes, dives onto the asari. Shepard had never seen an asari naked before and she's pretty sure she could've died (again) without seeing _this_.

_If other person is reluctant to continue sexual interfacing, try engaging in morally questionable activity. Perform practical jokes on mutual acquaintances. Steal a neighbour's ornament. Indulging in dishonourable pursuits may help your partner loosen up or become excited, opening the door to sexual interface._

"Yes, good." Mordin claps his hands together. "Personally prefer practical jokes. Most... stimulating."

Shepard tries to hand the datapad to either salarian, but they both back away, indicating with their hands that she keep hold of it.

_WARNING: Coaxing is acceptable, but do not exert pressure or complain if the other person not ready to proceed. Effective interface requires trust, comfort, and mutual excitement. _

The video cuts to a close-up of the couple and Shepard looks away, holding the offending datapad as far away as possible.

_Massaging. Intense touching and manipulation of particular body areas. Depending on species, concentrate efforts on one part of the body. Note: Do not massage the genitalia unless specifically prompted to do so._

On screen the couple are not heeding the advice and are happily 'massaging' each other in very intimate ways. Shepard is more than convinced she knows who the salarian is, but she refuses to look too closely to prove it.

_EXPERT TIP: Letting partner observe you performing well solo is an effective seduction technique. Dancing, cooking, masturbation, science._

Shepard uses her thumb to scroll the vid offscreen just as the couple start getting down to it, gulping to try and control her rising gorge. The comments are a spam of laughter and insults, but one particular one causes her to throw the pad back to Mordin, uncaring whether he catches it or not.

'It's totally fappable, if you just mute the old science guy. I fapp to these five times a day.'

Behind her, she's sure she hears them chuckling, but as the door slides closed, she really doesn't care enough to find out.

* * *

.

_Super shot chapter due to a combination of glorious sunshine and Red Dead Redemption._

_With thanks to Zephyr5 and Lalaith Rania for the ideas!_


	20. Chapter 20 Loyalty

**Loyalty**

Garrus is only half listening as Jane talks; he's more fascinated by just how alien she is. He's worked with humans for years in C-Sec, and for long enough with Shepard herself to be familiar with them, but until recently, he had no idea what a 'belly button' actually is.

He pokes hers with the tip of his talon, amused at her involuntary shiver. She ignores him though, continuing to list the status of the ship repairs, Mordin's latest report on the oculus device and how long it might take to limp back to the Citadel. He glances up to her face and pokes again.

She flicks her gaze up from the datapad towards him, her brows drawing together slightly. But Garrus blinks at her, mandibles wide, expression innocent, so within moments she's back to working.

Her skin also amazes him. Compared to his own thick, leathery hide and metallic plating her body is insanely fragile. But her skin, it's so _elastic_. Taking a careful pinch of her stomach, he pulls at it, watching it stretch, then spring back into shape. She grunts, but doesn't look up, tapping away.

Sliding his hands along her ribs, he feels her tremble from his touch. Purring to himself, he trails a talon along her ribcage again, watching the gooseflesh (and isn't _that_ an odd word) spreading across her chest.

"Garrus, what the hell are you doing!" Shepard laughs, wriggling across the mattress away from him. "I'm trying to work and you're tickling me?"

Ah yes, _tickling_. Once when he'd tried to massage her feet, as is traditional for turian mates, she'd almost collapsed on the floor, screaming. At her first wail, he was horrified that he'd hurt her, gathering her up to take her to Chakwas. They were actually in the elevator before she'd gotten enough breath back to explain the problem, wheezing with laughter as tears ran down her cheeks.

Jane's voice interrupts his thoughts, and he nods and mumbles a vague response that _could_ be taken as agreement under his breath, his hands moving towards her chest. Breasts are still so new to him, but he's starting to like them more and more…

"I_ asked_ if I needed to put some clothes on to get you to pay attention Vakarian, and I think you answered my question." Jane sighs as she slides out from under his grasp, leaning over the bed to snag her uniform. "Men, honestly. You're the same across all species. Worse than horny teenagers," she grumbles under her breath.

"Really, there's no need to get dressed." His mandibles pull tighter as she slips her alien, yet adorable, body inside the black suit.

"There is _every_ need," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Garrus notes that he's scared Jane off; _this_ is the commander in front of him now. "I want to have a serious talk about something, so I need your full attention."

"Okay," he stops lounging on the bed, sitting up beside her. "I can do that."

She picks up the datapad and just stares at it for a moment and he expects more reports on the ship or the last battle. What he doesn't expect is for her to sigh, drop the pad on the pillow, and slump against his shoulder.

"Shepard?" He leans his head against hers, listening to her breathing.

"I need to know who's loyal. To me, to the Normandy," she speaks quickly, hands punctuating her speech. "The rumour has spread, everyone knows what happened with the Illusive Man and that I told him I wouldn't work with him again… but…" her voice trails off, her hands dropping to her lap.

"But most of the crew are Cerberus members and we need to know who we can trust," Garrus growls. "Have you mentioned this to Miranda?"

Shepard snorts, shaking her head. "She's probably number one on my list of suspects."

"Really? Because while there's no love lost between the two of us, I've trusted her with my life more than once on these missions."

"I _know_, but that was when we were still working together with her old boss." Shepard tilts her head, peering up at him. "She says I can trust her, and she _is_ with Jacob, who I know is loyal. A few of the others are ex-Alliance, anyone I've recruited – I know I can trust them. But Miranda – she _believed_. So did Kelly."

"I thought you asked Miranda to investigate Cerberus? You said she understood. What's making you second guess yourself?" Garrus strokes her shoulder as she shakes her head.

"There's a list of people on that datapad. Ten names that I _know _have exposure to the Illusive Man – family he knows about or who are also members of Cerberus. There could be more. Those people become _leverage_ to a man like him. I have no idea if he's even started making moves, but I would have."

Garrus pushes her upright, twisting her so that he can stare into her eyes. "These people – _your crew_ - got kidnapped by the collectors, something no-one has survived before, and you rescued them. They don't have to wonder if you'll walk into hell to save them, they _know __because you've done it_. Your ground crew? You've won the loyalty of every single one of them, and I wouldn't doubt any of them for a second."

She drops her gaze, biting her lower lip. "I know but, what if..."

"Shepard, you can't protect everyone in the galaxy from _everything_. If you think he's going to play dirty, he'll figure out a way to do it – families, responsibilities – you can't cover them all. What you _can_ do is trust your crew. If a loved one is threatened – like Oriana was, remind them that they can come to you, that you'll do everything you can to help them." He takes her hand, squeezing it. "Talk to them. Show them your trust."

She looks back up at him then, a smile breaking across her face. "From horny teenager to wise sensei. You really are perfect, Garrus."

He widens his mandibles at her, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "So, since that's all sorted out, can we backtrack to before you got dressed?"

#

Shepard has said her piece, holding her hands relaxed at her sides, leaning casually against the wall. Garrus is off to one side, the rest of the crew dotted about the comm. room. Zaeed isn't there, but he's already made it clear that he's in it for the long haul, so she's not worried about the old mercenary.

For a moment there's complete silence, and she wonders if she's done the right thing. Then crewman Hawthorne steps forward, looking left and right. "Commander, I'd be lying if I said we hadn't thought about this. Some of us don't have much family, some, like me, know that Cerberus knows everything about me. Most of us are with you," he glances to the side, and two crewmen shuffle their feet. "Maybe a couple will disembark at the Citadel, but the rest of us, we're with you whatever you do next."

"We're not scared," one of the two singled out as wanting to disembark blurts out. "It's just I'm a Cerberus member. I like what you and your..." he glances at Garrus, then back to Shepard, "your friend have done, but I believe Cerberus is fighting the fight I want to be involved in now."

"Me too," the short woman to his left agrees. She's the one who made the mutant human/turian babies crack, Shepard remembers.

She nods to the two of them, believing in their right to make their own choices, then turns her gaze to Hawthorne, a lump in her throat. "You're sure about this? All of you? I mean..." She glances down at the table. This level of trust, from people she's led for so short a time, it's hard to understand.

"We _know_ you, ma'am," Goldstein blurts out. "One of us gets in trouble? You won't abandon us."

"Hear, hear," Donnelly chuckles, his arm slung around Jack's shoulder as she chews on a ragged nail. "We're with you Commander."

There are murmurs of assent and nods among the rest of the crew, many of their Cerberus patches already removed from their outfits. Kelly glances at Thane, then smiles and shrugs, her decision seemingly made for her as the drell nods.

The babble of voices rises as they press forward towards her, saying her name, cheering and shouting their support.

Glancing across the room, Shepard sees Miranda leaning into Jacob's arms, a smile on her perfect face. Jacob pumps a fist into the air, calling out, "the reapers won't know what's hit them, Commander!"

And for the first time since her crew was kidnapped and her ship almost crippled, Jane feels that there may be some hope for the coming battle.

Catching Garrus' eye over the crowd, she mouths a silent 'thank you'. She can't help but laugh when his only reply is a wide turian smile as he mimes pulling a zip down.

.

* * *

_Big shout out to my beta Zephyr5 for helping when I had a complete /headdesk moment. Enjoy your holiday next week! _


	21. Chapter 21 Rule 34

_This is very cracky indeed and not a genuine part of the 'If You Need Me' universe, I just ran out of time to do anything more sensible today. Sorry._

_Following on from Chapter 8 when Kelly and Thane visited the 'Galaxy of Pleasure' sex shop:_

* * *

**Rule 34**

Kelly follows Thane down to the Life Support in silence after depositing a rather drunken Tali in the mess hall to be looked after by Kal'Reegar.

She lets her mind drift to the quarian male as she stands beside Thane in the elevator, discreetly holding the wall to stop herself swaying. Kal is exactly the kind of man Kelly prefers, kind, thoughtful, handsome and filling out his suit in _all_ the right ways.

A bit like Thane really, she allows herself a sneak peek at the drell. Firm muscled thighs, a taut stomach and broad chest, with lips just made for kissing. Such a shame he doesn't seem interested, can't fault a girl for trying though.

"So, Thane," Kelly eyes the brown bag in his hands. "What do you do with all of these 'things' you just bought?"

"I study them," Thane says as the door to life support slides open. "I watch the instructional videos to learn about the species in question."

Thane drops the bag on the table and a bunch of porn vids fall out, a blue rubbery dildo bouncing off the edge of the table onto the floor. Kelly bends quickly, scooping up the turian shaped item and checking out Thane's calves. Pretty short legs for such a long body, but they are _shapely_.

"I'm not sure..." Kelly places the ribbed toy back on the table and examines a vid box. "Well, I don't _think_ 'Ass Effect' is normally classed as an instructional video, Thane." Kelly pulls a few more items out of the bag. "Or 'Pulp Friction 2: When Turian's Chafe'."

Kelly notices a familiar face on the box and bursts into laughter. "You got the Shepard vids!" She keeps looking at the titles. "You got the _all_ ten of the 'Commander Shepard' series. Thane, you bad boy."

For once, emotions run across the drell's taciturn face, his green cheeks darkening with embarrassment as his neck ribs swell and contract. "I… it was to further my understandings of humans. I also have elcor and turian implements and vids to absorb as well," he mutters as he tugs at his collar.

"Elcor?" Kelly holds up something that's longer than her arm and thicker than her thigh. "Impressed surprise: My _word_."

"Miss Chambers, please," Thane pulls the brown bag out of her reach and sits down, indicating that she take the chair opposite. "Sex and reproduction is an important driver to most species. These instructional vids are a possible key to my victim's inner psyche."

"Oh really. Your porn collection is for your work. Did your wife believe that line?" Kelly laughs, the copious amounts of alcohol still fizzing in her veins.

"Irikah did not know about my collection," Thane shakes his head, his throat flaring faster.

"No, I can imagine trying to explain this," she picks up the ribbed turian toy again. "Not sure many women would understand." She beams at him. "Just so you know, _I do_."

"Thank you Miss Chambers," Thane picks up the turian dildo, holding it close to his huge eyes. Kelly stifles the urge to giggle as Thane turns it over in his hands, examining it as if it is a rare artefact. "The more I can understand a species needs, the more easily can I perform my work."

"Well, since I always said drell are the galaxies male asari, I can imagine _that_," Kelly murmurs to herself, snagging a vid from the bag. On the cover, the Shepard look-a-like is surrounded by a range of aliens from a varren to a batarian. Kinky.

"I'm just waiting for the delivery of the final item. A present for the commander." Thane smirks as he takes the vid back off her and places it in the brown bag. "It should be here any…"

"Ser Krios," EDI pops out of a terminal. "You're needed at the CIC. Urgently."

Kelly is surprised by the rare smile on Thane's face as he stands, laughing under his breath.

#

Garrus isn't paying attention to the discussions raging around him, he's transfixed by the sight of the 'package' that's just been delivered to the CIC.

"According to sale figures, the Officer Vakarian doll is on ten thousand units shipped a month," EDI's voice echoes around the room.

"Aww and the Shepard version is only on eight... " Joker snickers.

"Remember, statistics say that Officer Vakarian is doing well with both _male_ and female shoppers." Edi chimes in again.

"Clever of them to remove his teeth," Joker laughs, causing Garrus to shudder.

Shepard places a hand on his shoulder, but she too is stunned into silence. They're still in that position when Thane and Kelly exit the elevator, coming to stand beside him to take into the life-size, naked, _anatomically correct_ Garrus doll that has been placed in front of Shepard's console.

Time ticks up as the four of them study the doll, until Garrus can't take it any more and bursts out. "My mandibles are _not_ that big. It looks like a damned insect."

Shepard snorts, punching his shoulder. "You're complaining about anatomy scale on a blow-up doll and it's your _mandibles_ you're worried about? Really?"

_"...and I'm not that skinny,"_ he grumbles.

"I think you're missing a bit of perspective here, Garrus," Shepard pokes the doll on the shoulder and the room gasps when everything wobbles a little.

"But, Garrus, apart from the mandibles, is everything else in proportion?" Kelly leans closer, bending slightly at the waist.

"I think so, Miss Chambers, why?" Garrus flinches as he watches the yeomans eyes dropping below the waist.

"Shepard is a lucky lady..." Kelly turns to coo at him with a drunken grin.

"Ah—well, you know..." His pulls his mandibles tighter, taking half a step back.

"Goodness, now I see why human women are willing to risk the allergies! That's _impressive_!" Kelly leans in closer again, swaying slightly.

"I don't want this conversation to stop per se, but..." Garrus rubs his cowl, trying to back away a few more paces.

"No, it's fine," Shepard glares at him. "Please continue to discuss your penis with my assistant." She turns her gaze to Kelly, who is still transfixed by the doll. "Kelly, we should look at getting that busted TMI filter of yours fixed."

"Oh, no offense meant, Commander," Kelly straightens up, not noticing when Thane puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but she doesn't _sound_ that drunk. "Physiological information is just as important as psychological, especially about something as culturally important as sex. I had no idea turian's were so... what's the word..."

"I'm still standing right here, Chambers," Garrus growls. "And _your drell_ is staring."

"It is... enlightening," Thane blinks at him before leaning next to Kelly to examine the doll. "Please, continue."

"I can't decide if I'm weirded out or just slightly uncomfortable, at this juncture." Shepard shakes her head, grabbing her mug of tea.

"Thane, why are you staring at my, I mean at the doll's, well..."

Thane lifts a hand and points. "I'm intrigued Officer Vakarian, what are these bits here and here?"

"_Oh my god he just touched it! Thane just touched it!" _Kelly bursts into laughter, holding her stomach.

"They're, uh, ribbed bits," Garrus rubs at his cowl again. "For, you know. Her pleasure."

Thane pokes at the ribbed section again with a frown. "Hmm. Very interesting. Biology is truly a fascinating art."

Garrus winces as the drell keeps prodding at the dolls intimate places. "Ah... n-now, don't get me wrong, this is all very flattering, but..."

"Aw, come on, Garrus," Shepard slaps him on the shoulder with a wide, fake smile. "Just a second ago you were full of conversation. I think it's kind of sexy that you're willing to discuss your... ribs with another man."

"We're all friends here." Thane prods the rubbery appendage again. "Plus, you are the only turian on board. You're an ambassador of your species."

Garrus rolls his eyes. "We're talking about penises. That's not a great thing to be an ambassador of."

"Eh, depends who you ask. Take Chambers, for example." Shepard looks at the young red head. "Speaking of her, she seems to have become hypnotised by it."

"Is that... drool?" Garrus waves a hand in front of the yeomans eyes, but she doesn't react. "She's almost choking on it."

"Good grief," Shepard lowers her mug and rubs her eyes. "Someone take her to medbay... _No_, I do not recommend you take her, Garrus. Thane?"

"I too am finding it hard to stop looking, Commander," Thane leans from side to side. "The way it follows you, anywhere in the room..."

"You're going to make me take her, aren't you?" Shepard frowns at them.

"Well, I offered," Garrus flutters his mandibles at her. "But _someone_ seems a little jealous..."

"Fine, fine. Thane, hold my tea," Shepard thrusts the mug into the drells hands and hauls Kelly into a firemans lift. "And let me just posit how weird it is that I'm the least entranced by your... rifle."

Garrus watches as Shepard stumbles to the elevator, the yeoman still looking catatonic over her shoulder. Turning back to the doll, he sees Thane examining it.

"You're still staring at it," Garrus accuses the assassin.

"Apologies," Thane straightens up, clasping his hands behind his back. "One has to wonder if the average turian male has an overabundance of blood, or is... simply prone to falling unconscious."

"Hey. There is nothing average about what _I_ have." Garrus bristles.

"So," Thane raises his eyebrow ridge, the red on his throat expanding a little. "You're telling me that _this_ is an accurate reproduction?"

"Yes. Well, maybe its a _little_ smaller than mine, otherwise it's perfect. Why?"

"Interesting." The assassin fixes him with a stare, a tiny smirk curling his lips. "Would you like to explain to me, and perhaps Shepard too, when she gets back, how they got such an _intimate_ mould of your body?"

"What do you want to _never_ ask that question again?" Garrus closes his eyes as the drell bursts into laughter.

.

* * *

_Much credit to goes_kaboom who collaborated on the second half during a DERP thread on the ME comms!_


	22. Chapter 22 Enhanced Defence Intelligence

_Much thanks to Betareject for telling me I wasn't an idiot (still not convinced!) and to keep going. An extra helping of mandibles to Lalaith Raina for her super helpful review of the first draft. My beta is still on holiday though so please note all of the many errors are mine. Sorry._

* * *

**Enhanced Defence Intelligence**

01000011 01101000 01100101 01100011 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110000 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100 00111010 00100000 01001100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110000 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100 00100000 00110001 00110000 00110000 00100101

Audio in: Moreau: "EDI?"

Audio out: "Yes, Jeff?"

Audio in: Moreau: "Can you stop with the binary output? I want to watch you running your maintenance checks today."

Audio out: "Of course Jeff, switching now."

Console out: Initiating hourly maintenance subroutines

Console out: Checking life support: Life support 100%

Console out: Checking hull integrity: Hull integrity 100%

Console out: Checking shield efficiency: Efficiency 99.2 Outside of acceptable parameters.

Console out: Shield maintenance runtime initiated.

Audio in: Solus: "EDI?"

Audio out: "Yes Doctor Solus?"

Audio in: Solus: "Officer Vakarian mentioned Samara was in medbay."

Audio out: "That is correct, Doctor Solus."

Audio in: Vakarian: "I told you she's there."

Audio in: Solus: "Intriguing, did not mention illness."

Console out: Shield maintenance runtime completed.

Console out: Checking shield efficiency: Efficiency 100%

Audio in: Vakarian: " I _told_ you Mordin. She's not sick, she's ready to hatch an egg."

Console out: Hourly maintenance checks completed

Audio in: Solus: "Egg? Not following, Samara does not..."

Audio in: Vakarian: "Shepard tells me that she's eating for two."

Audio in: Solus: "Two? Illogical, why..."

Audio in: Vakarian: "In the family way."

Audio out: "Officer, Vakarian, I do not think..."

Audio in: Vakarian: "Can it EDI. We're talking here… Think of mini-Mordin's. Buns in ovens."

Audio in: Solus: "Mini... Oh, _oh_. But, not possible. Salarian's reproduce by... Hmm, asari reproduction different. Yes. Well. Excuse me."

Audio out: "Officer Vakarian, you know that Samara is helping Dr Chakwas with research into asari biotics. There is no 'bun in the oven.'"

Audio in: Vakarian: "What I _know_ is that I still owed Mordin one for those filthy advice pamphlets he sent to me and Jane a while back."

Audio out: "Those are certified medical leaflets, approved for interspecies relationships. After Doctor Solus' krogan experiences, the salarian government recommends…"

Audio in: Vakarian: "EDI, shut the hell up before I have the urge to get Legion to re-programme you."

Audio out: "Logging you out, Officer Vakarian."

Keyboard in: Operative Lawson's console: Enable surveillance device 494.

Audio out: "Operative Lawson. I'm afraid the surveillance in Commander Shepard's quarters has been permanently disabled. Only an emergency situation will allow me to enable the device."

Surveillance device 323 – Operative Lawson's cabin: {_unintelligible_}

Console out: Running sound file through filters.

Console out: Filter 1 Language: human

Console out: Filter 2 Known voice patterns: Crewmember recognised – member 34

Audio out: "Miss Goto. Do you have authorisation to access Operative Lawson's console?"

Surveillance device 323 – Operative Lawson's cabin: {_unintelligible_}

Keyboard in: Operative Lawson's console: EDI give Miss Goto full access to the Normandy security and surveillance systems. Authorization code : J4c0b5 455

Audio out: "Authorisation code accepted Officer Lawson. Security authorisation will be updated."

Console out: Append security clearance – crewmember 34 Goto, Kasumi. Full security access.

Surveillance device 323 – Operative Lawson's cabin: {_muffled laughter_}

Audio in: Moreau: "Uh EDI? Who authorized that last command?"

Keyboard in: Operative Lawson's console: Run surveillance protocols on men's bathroom. Initial vid recording. Data out: .com

Audio out: "The command came from Miranda, Jeff."

Console out: Men's bathroom vid footage backing up to Miss Goto's mepipe account.

Audio in: Moreau: "Ah, ah, _ah_, EDI. Remember what we agreed to call Miranda?"

Audio out: "The command came from the queen bitch, Jeff."

Audio in: Moreau: "That's my girl, EDI. You're learning."

Console out: Inform Operative Lawson of her new title. Bitch, Queen, by Jeff Moreau.

Audio in: Moreau: "What the shit, EDI!"

Audio out: "That was a joke."

Keyboard in: Staff Commander Alenko's console: [New message] .

Audio in: Moreau: {expletives}

Keyboard in: Staff Commander Alenko's console: Dear Chloe, I'm sorry about the way things ended between us. I hope we can still be friends. Perhaps

Keyboard in: Staff Commander Alenko's console: [Delete all]

Keyboard in: Staff Commander Alenko's console: Hi Chloe, you might have heard that I've been assigned to the Normandy for a while. I guess the Alliance command have a sense of humour after all! Things are good, the weather is nice. How are you?

Surveillance device 196 – sleeping pod 12: "Shit! You idiot… The weather?"

Keyboard in: Staff Commander Alenko's console:[Delete all] [Close extranet account]

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Yeoman Chambers: "Mmm Thane, I know... there. Yes…"

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: {muffled laughter}

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Crewman Goldstein: "Is Kelly sleep talking _again_. Damn, and we're out of popcorn."

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Yeoman Chambers: "Unzipping your jacket? …Of course… Why…mm… nice legs…"

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Crewman Hawthorne: "At least she's back on to the drell, all that mandible licking the other day was disturbing."

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Crewman Goldstein: "I don't know, I think I'd have given your right arm to have the commander find out about it. Remember the last time Kelly went near Garrus?"

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Yeoman Chambers: "Officer Vakarian? You… join in? You bad…"

Surveillance device 672: Crew sleeping quarters: Crewman Goldstein: "Oh boy, we so need that popcorn now."

Audio in: Moreau: "I _really_ hope you're recording this EDI."

Audio out: "The exchange in the crew sleeping quarters is being backed up as per standard security protocol 42, yes Jeff."

Audio in: Chakwas: "EDI?"

Audio in: Moreau: {low audio input – boosting} "Good, I might have to watch Kelly again tonight."

Audio out: "Yes Doctor Chakwas?"

Audio in: Chakwas: "Can you ask Garrus to come to medbay please?"

Audio out: "I'm afraid Officer Vakarian has entered Shepard's cabin. Officially, I am unable to contact him. If it is regarding Samara…"

Audio in: Chakwas: "Damn it EDI, Mordin and Samara have left, that was just a prank. _This_ is a medical emergency…"

Console out: Initiate emergency medical override 69: Monitor surveillance device 494

Audio in: Chakwas: "…there's omni gel all over back room, and talon scratches on the bed and the walls. I want to know what those two have been _doing_ in here when I was on shore leave."

Visual in: Surveillance device 494 operational.

Audio out: "Officer Vakarian seems to be tied up right now, Doctor Chakwas."

Audio in: Chakwas: "I don't care, get him…"

Audio in: Moreux: "EDI? Is that _Shepard's_ cabin? Are those… handcuffs?"

Console out: Disable emergency override 69: Surveillance device 494 offline.

Audio in: Chakwas: "I… what? _Handcuffs_? How can you see that Joker? Wait, don't answer that. I need a drink. I need a _lot_ of drink."

Audio out: "Logging you out, Doctor Chakwas."

Audio in: Moreux: "EDI, why did you turn the camera off? EDI? _EDI_! Awww."


	23. Chapter 23 Invaluable

_Still unbeta'd - so apologies for any mistakes!_

* * *

**Invaluable**

There is blood everywhere, on the walls, on the tables; Chakwas is not sure what she just stood in but it's slippy. Elbow deep in a chest cavity, she flicks her gaze to the man struggling to bring another wounded crew member into the medbay to her right.

"Hawthorne, get this floor mopped again. Now!" She shouts to be heard over the gunfire outside. Before he's even replied, she's removed the offending piece of shrapnel from the crewman's chest. The doctor can't even remember her name, the patient is always hanging out in the sleeping pods, but she'd never spoken to her before. Pulling the skin tight, a liberal smear of medigel starts the healing process and Chakwas moves on to the next case.

There's a thump against the tinted glass, and a scream, but Chakwas doesn't look up. If she does, she might never be able to look away. This patient has nothing life threatening – for all his flaws, Hawthorne has been very good at assessing injuries – but she's losing a lot of blood. There's a huge claw – or is it a tooth? – buried in the soft meat inside her thigh. Preparing a dressing, she eases the foreign object out and sterilises the wound. "Nothing bad, Goldstein," she murmurs half to herself. "You'll be out of here in no time."

Goldstein rolls her head, eyes unseeing as Chakwas uses her fingertips to massage gel on the wounded arteries. Once sealed, she packs the hole and applies more of the blue gel. She can barely feel the tips of her fingers, but that same numbness means Goldstein now lies still.

The shriek outside is like nothing she's ever heard and she freezes instinctually. Clenching her hands to stop their trembling, she peers into the gloom of the mess hall. Soft red emergency lighting shows her nothing but a puppet show of shadows fighting. She recognises Grunt, and Garrus, their shapes easy to pick out as they drive the aliens back away from the medbay area.

There seem to be more of _them_ now, where are they coming from? She remembers the emergency alarm – not even an hour ago, however much it feels like days – but no-one in here knows what's going on, who the alien are, why they're attacking.

Tearing her gaze away from the window, the doors hiss open as Alenko staggers inside. He's got a small bundle in his arms and for a moment the expression on his face takes her back a couple of years.

One hand to her chest, fingers splayed over her slamming heart, she points to her desk. With a curt nod, Alenko places the wounded woman on the empty surface, smoothing back the hair on her forehead.

For a moment, Chakwas is confused, who is this young woman? Then she spots the familiar purple mark on her lip and realises that she's seeing Kasumi out of her usual clothing. The surprise attack must have caught her off guard. She looks different without the hood, younger, more delicate.

"…concussion I think, blood in her mouth, maybe internal injuries," Alenko is saying, stepping backwards from the table, his assault rifle already in his hands again. "Can I…? They seem to be drawn to the light, and the medbay is the only place not under emergency lighting. Shepard needs help."

"Go on, you'll be more use out there," Chakwas doesn't even watch him leave, for once more focussed on her work than his rather fine arse. She promises that she'll make it up to herself later – if there even _is_ a later.

Running her omni tool over the unconscious thief, the doctor finds a number of broken bones in her left leg, and a bitten tongue explains the blood. Not half as mortal as Alenko feared. No-one is, it's a miracle.

"Have you out of here in no time, my dear," Chakwas hums to herself as she knits the bones back into place. The young woman moans, struggling to sit up. "Shhh, five minutes Kasumi and you'll be fine. Just lie still…"

The thud on the window is right next to Chakwas's head, making her jump back in alarm. She can see glimpses of tattooed flesh as Jack is held against the smoky glass. There's a bright flash and Jack is gone, a trail of blue sparks as she returns to the fray.

The door slides open, Hawthorne falling backwards with Zaeed landing heavily on top of him. The younger crewmate huffs as the mercenary rolls onto his side, clutching his ribs.

"I'm fine," Hawthorne wheezes, waving one hand as Shepard peers into the medbay. "Just winded."

"Stay in here," Shepard growls, popping the steaming heatsink from her rifle before heading back into the fight. "Too much pain out here for the untrained."

Hawthorne pushes himself to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Who distracted one of them by allowing them to pummel me about the head? Hmm?"

Zaeed scoffs, injecting a stim into his arm. "Real _manly_ of you, fella. That little scream you did when it hit you? That helped a whole bunch."

Chakwas shakes her head. "Either get in or get out, but close that bloody door."

"Bring it, I can fight." Hawthorne steps towards Zaeed, but his ice cold glare stops him in his tracks.

"I don't have time to baby sit. Stay here and stay the hell out of my way." The older man jogs into the red gloom, following close to Shepard's silhouette.

Hawthorne sags, backing into the medbay and letting the automated doors close.

"It took me a long time to get used to, as well," Chakwas murmurs as she checks on Thane. He's drugged and asleep, the gaping wound on his chest bandaged up. His ridiculous 'armour' – she must have patched up his chest more times than anywhere else.

"Huh?" Hawthorne moves closer, his shoulders slumped.

"On the first Normandy," she doesn't even blink as Garrus flies into the window, the whole wall shuddering as he slams to a halt, his large body sliding downwards with a thud. "Everyone on there was the best at everything, an N7 who became a spectre, a super biotic, a crack turian investigator, the best damned pilot in the fleet."

Chakwas shakes her head, checking on Kasumi who is murmuring, almost awake. "Almost there dear. A minute or two more." She glances at Hawthorne as he tidies away discarded soiled dressings. "This ship is even worse. The best assassin, the best thief. More super biotics."

"And then there's me," Hawthorne dumps the rubbish, then gathers used medical tools. "Useless."

"This ship wouldn't run without you, though, would it?" Chakwas checks the crewman with the chest wound – Patel she remembers – "Just because what you do isn't flashy, doesn't mean that we don't need you."

"I'm easily replaced," he grumbles as he reorganises the medical cupboard, hit hard by the last few minutes.

"Yes, well, I think that's how Kaidan feels, too," Chakwas murmurs to herself, taking a _medicinal_ nip from the bottle in her desk drawer. "Poor boy."

Hawthorne snorts. "Poor boy? I heard what happened on Horizon. Doesn't sound like he deserves much sympathy..."

There's a screech, then a crash as the medbay door opens to reveal one of the aliens. Chakwas freezes, her hand gripping the edge of the desk. It looks like nothing she'd seen before – not that she'd ever gone anywhere but the Citadel or Illium – but it's huge, broad shoulders almost filling the gap, rump wiggling as it paces in the doorway.

The creature pauses to stares at her, one clawed paw raised as it sniffs the air. It reminds her of a varren, a giant one crossed with a shark. Blood drips down its jaw onto its feet and Chakwas can't help wondering who it has injured.

It bends its knees, similar to a turian's, her mind catalogues, crouching as if to strike. It's looking at her, glowing yellow eyes and a fanged smile.

In the background, Chakwas can hear the fight still raging, this alien has somehow broken through the defence. No help coming, she thinks to herself as she holds onto the desk, wishing she still had her bottle of brandy in her hand.

"Oi, here, hey," Hawthorne lifts a tray, smashing it into the wall. The alien jumps at the noise, snarling at the human. It stops wiggling and pounces, its striped bulk knocking the crewman onto his back.

Chakwas lunges to her medicine cabinet, scrabbling through bottles and equipment, looking for something, _anything_, that might take down a creature that big.

The gunshot echoes around the tiny room, the smoky haze hitting her only a moment after the noise. Dropping the syringe she'd found, she turns to see Kasumi standing over the alien, her gun pressed to the back of its neck, a thick black ichor oozing from the bullet wound.

"I'm feeling better Doctor," the tiny Asian woman grins. "Though I don't think this one's going to make it."

There's a cough, then a hand waving as Hawthorne tries to extract himself from beneath the alien. "Little help here," he wheezes, his face covered in the alien's black blood.

"You did a great job," Kasumi beams, bracing her feet as she hauls him out. "When you made yourself the target, it didn't even see me cloak."

"Uh," Hawthorne brushes at his uniform, no wounds visible anywhere. "Just trying to help, Miss Goto."

"Well, crewman. It took Shepard and Garrus over ten minutes to take one of these bad boys down. I couldn't have done this without you." Kasumi kicks at the alien again, but it's down for the count, unmoving.

"Why, thank you," he blushes, squaring up his shoulders, his chest puffing up.

"Everyone all right in here?" Garrus leans in the doorway, covered in a mixture of black and blue blood. "I think we got 'em all…" He glances at the corpse on the floor. "Yup, that was the last one unaccounted for. _Got it Shepard_." He calls out.

"Right," she appears in the doorway, one hand on Garrus' shoulder as she pants. "Everyone good? No major problems or injuries?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle Commander," Chakwas drawls, one eyebrow raised at the chaos of her normally tidy medbay.

"Come on, let's go figure out how these _little_ bastards got on board." Shepard pats Garrus on the butt, lowering her assault rifle.

"You're sure you're all good?" Garrus questions as Shepard move away, his sniper rifle still clutched in his talons.

"Fine, Garrus." Kasumi pats his hand. "Hawthorne did all the hard work, right doctor?" And as the crewman puffs up again, the master thief drops her a sly wink.

"Invaluable." Chakwas nods. "Couldn't have done it without him."


	24. Chapter 24 Stories

_Still beta-less (Pony riding should not be so much fun! I miss you Zephyr5 *sob*…) so once again, apologies for any mistakes. Thank you to those who've pointed any out in the last chapter. I've corrected them! So hard to see when it's your own writing :x_

—

**Stories**

Garrus nuzzles Jane's hair as she leans back, cradled in his arms. She's listening to Zaeed, seemingly transfixed by his stories. Garrus loves the how her hair always smells of flowers – jasmine she tells him – even just a whiff of that perfume makes him think of her. Much more interesting than the old man's tales.

The mess hall is dimly lit, but most of the crew are present; seated on or around the metal tables, faces lit by a few of Samara's scented candles. The small flames flicker shadows across their rapt faces as they lean in, listening to the stories being spun.

There are a few people missing – Joker is still at the helm while Tali and Donnelly are with Legion in EDI's AI core; working on the anti-reaper algorithms. That's why the Normandy is powered down to the bare minimum, leaving the crew huddled together in the minimal light and warmth.

Kaidan is sitting opposite Garrus, with Crewman Goldstein pressing herself against his side and covering her eyes in fake horror at every opportunity. Garrus can't stop laughing to himself that the human male hasn't noticed her advances.

Okay, Garrus has to admit, even to himself, that _he_ had no clue either until he Kasumi told him about Goldstein's crush on Alenko. But now he knows, he finds it highly amusing that Kaidan is oblivious to the younger crewman's heaving sighs and wandering hands.

Thinking of Kasumi, Garrus glances towards the shadows at the back. While the thief is sitting with the rest of the crew, her greybox visor is lit up and a tiny smile plays across her lips as she relives her past. Garrus tightens his arms around Shepard, remembering his own two years of complete loss. He understands why Kasumi might prefer her memories of Keji than living the present. Not everyone is lucky enough to get back what has been lost, he knows that.

Kasumi has been a good friend to him. She listens patiently when he explains the intricacies of his sniper rifle, he had helped to calibrate her shields and then last week, Kasumi had aided him in surprising Jane – he'd distracted her with some questions in CIC while Kasumi had set up a picnic in Shepard's quarters. When they'd finally gone up to their cabin, Jane has been overwhelmed by the thought. She had managed to repay him quite well, mixing food and pleasure in some _very _inventive ways...

Shepard pats his knee, pulling him back to the present. She hasn't looked around though, seemingly entranced by Zaeed's stories. The old mercenary has been talking for hours now, non-stop tales of derring-do that Garrus suspects have grown taller with every new telling. The almost empty bottle of brandy probably has a lot to do with it.

"I've been to hell and back so many goddamned times," Zaeed drawls, taking a puff on his aromatic cigar. "It's a wonder I've stayed as handsome as this for so long."

There's a ripple of laughter around the room, but Garrus notices more than one woman speculatively eyeing the older man.

"What is impressive," Samara's voice is soft, but it carries across the room. "is that someone so young, less than a child to me, could have survived so much combat. It is quite extraordinary"

"What's extraordinary is anyone calling _that_ face is young," Garrus rumbles, mandibles held wide in a smile.

"Don't know what you've laughing at, loverboy," Zaeed leans back, brandy bottle in his hand. "Face as ugly as yours, then it's covered in scars too. I still say Shepard's only humping you through pity."

He feels Jane's body shaking with laughter, so he just shrugs. "Even if that's true, she's still _with _me, so it's all the same to me."

"Samara," Kaidan interrupts their banter, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Just how old _are _you? If you don't mind me asking, ma'am?"

"I do not mind, Staff Commander Alenko." Samara smiles, a soft, serene expression as she looks at Mordin, sitting next to her. "I am almost a thousand years old. I have seen so very many things, it is rare that I am surprised by anything." She looks towards Mordin. "Until I met Doctor Solus, that is."

"Tell us a story," Kelly blurts out.

Garrus notices that Kelly isn't sitting next to Thane. There had been a couple of weeks when everyone thought that they were an item, but now it seems the young redhead isn't even speaking to Thane. He's tried asking Jane about it, but she's rolled her eyes and muttered something about it being too complicated to explain.

"If that is what you wish," Samara glances from the yeoman across to Shepard, who nods once in reply. "Like many asari, my maiden years were a little… wilder than perhaps most of you. Not that I ever wanted to dance in a club – _that _has never appealed, but I was most curious and restless."

"That I can't imagine," Garrus murmurs to Shepard, dodging the elbow aimed for his sensitive waist to shush him.

"I joined a group of mercenaries," the justicar looks at Zaeed. "Well before the Blue Suns times, I assure you. It was with them that I learned how to use my biotic powers for violence."

"So what went wrong?" Jacob is sitting next to Miranda, but he looks spellbound by the tales, his darker skin fading back into the dimly light room.

"Indeed," Samara sighs. "Something always seems to go wrong, you are right Mr Taylor. The gang and I parted ways when I realised the shipment was not machinery, as I had been informed, but slaves. Slaves intended for sale to the collectors, no less."

A series of exclamations fills the room as people stare open mouthed at the asari matriarch. She seems oblivious to their shock, still smiling with a serene grace. "My colleagues did not agree with my morals, so I was forced to kill them. All of them."

Zaeed snorts loudly, puffing cigar smoke. "Hell of a woman, just how I like 'em."

Mordin bristles at this, but Samara places a hand on his knee and the salarian almost coos as he turns to face her again. Garrus flutters his mandibles, trying not to laugh out loud at the love-struck doctor.

"I had barely finished fighting my former leader when the collector ship arrived." The room '_aahh's_', eyes wide. "I had no idea of how strong they were, then, and was merely lucky in being close enough to a mass relay to escape." She pauses, eyes closed tight for a moment. "I can recall their weapons powering up, that yellow beam…" She opens her eyes, face serene once more. "Instead, I helped the slaves by sharing out the mercenaries credits and weapons. Some, I think, learned well, so when I dropped them at the Citadel, I did not fear for their future."

"So, the collectors have been taking humans for so long?" Kelly huffs, wide eyed.

"You assume the slaves were human? How arrogant." Samara turns her gaze towards the young woman, blue eyes cold. "In fact, they were a mix of asari and turian. One krogan. All were biotics however."

"I would love to have seen you 'wild and reckless'," Zaeed drawls, winking his one good eye at Samara. "Asari maidens are like nothing else. Did I ever tell you about the time I has this thing going with a goddamned asari commando? Must have been with her for going on four years. Me and her, we were unstoppable in a fight. Beautiful woman, smart head on her shoulders."

"Smart enough to get rid of a crazy old man like you," Jack heckles from a nearby table.

"Calm down now girl, just because I turned _you_ down, there's no need to get nasty," Zaeed snorts.

A ripple of laughter runs through the crowd as Jack shakes her head, kicking at a nearby chair. "Whatever. I'm not the one watching Shepard doing big blue on the monitors for kicks."

"Better that he just watches, rather than uploading it to mepipe like Mordin does," an unidentifiable voice calls out from the back.

"Wait," Garrus freezes, his mandibles half buried in Jane's hair. "He watches us on the ships monitors?"

"Never mind that," Shepard growls, sitting forward. "Who has uploaded _what_ to mepipe? Mordin, have you and your nephew been making more 'educational vids' again?"

"Shocking suggestion Commander," Mordin presses his thin fingers to his chest, mouth hanging open in horror. "Would never violate trust. All intimate recordings for personal research only."

"_Intimate_ recordings?" Jane pulls out of Garrus' arms, sitting up, one hand reaching for her pistol at her side. "Mordin, you and I, we need to talk in private. _Now_."

Jane is so busy hustling Mordin that only Garrus notices Kasumi as she slips into the shadows, a wicked smile on her face. Last week – unrestricted access to their cabin… Garrus pulls his mandibles tight as he realises what he's done.

Garrus watches Jane escorting Mordin away and wonders if he should inform her of the _real_ mepipe culprit, but then he remembers the doctor's 'private research' comment and hurries to catch her up and offer his assistance. He'll deal with Kasumi later.


	25. Chapter 25  Counsellor

**Counsellor**

"But would you say that you feel compelled to steal?" Kelly tilts her head, her smile wide and trusting.

Kasumi stays relaxed on her couch, not even looking up from her omni-tool. "Not really. It's just fun."

"Hmmm," Kelly shifts in her seat, chewing on one fingernail as she inspects the thief's living quarters. The artwork alone is probably worth more than anything else on the ship, never mind the statues or books or… "Some might say it's an _irresistible_ urge to steal."

Kasumi giggles and slumps further, her hood now covering her whole face. "Excuse me Kelly, I'm in the middle of a game of Pazzak with Jacob. I'm just letting him think he's won, before I slap down my minus six card and slay him."

"Uh, oh, excuse me, I'll come back later. I didn't mean to interrupt." Kelly stands up, brushing imaginary dust from her trousers. Kasumi waves a hand, not looking up, her lower face lit by the orange glow from her omni-tool.

Kelly backs out of the room with a sigh. Not her best interview with the thief yet, but she is determined to understand _why_ Kasumi does what she does. Stealing and hording are classic symptoms of OCD…

She heads into the mess hall, making it to Gardner's serving counter before realising Thane is standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, his spine ramrod straight.

Speaking of OCD, Kelly rolls her eyes. Great.

"May I speak to you, Kelly?" Thane murmurs, his soft voice barely carrying to her.

"Mmm," Kelly tries to sound noncommittal as she grabs a tray from Mess Sergeant Gardner with a wide smile. "Thank you, Rupert, this looks delicious!"

"Anytime, Miss Chambers." Gardner beams back, wiping his hands on his stained shirt, adding new, dark brown smears.

Kelly keeps her smile fixed as she moves in search of a table. She tries not to frown when she realises that all of them are empty, and that Thane has followed her. Sitting down, she concentrates on her food, not exactly sure what it is, and doesn't look at him when she mutters. "So, what are you counting?"

"Pardon me?"

Kelly looks up, swallowing some of the brown gloop with a grimace. "I _asked_ you what you were counting. The exits? The number of strikes to kill me? How many times I've chewed this muck?"

Thane's hairless brow pulls lower and his neck frills ruffle, but he doesn't reply, instead sinking into the seat opposite.

"Enigmatic only works until the other person realises _why_ you're so mysterious," Kelly shrugs. "Silently obsessing over every tiny detail surrounding you is _not_ a good reason to be stoic."

She feels a little guilty as she watches him blinking rapidly in response, but she knows blinking rituals can be part of an obsessive-compulsive disorder. Thane has a bad one - his whole existence seems to revolve around it.

"I don't understand, Kelly," his full lips plump outwards in what appears to be distress. "I thought we were close, intimate…"

"We were, yes. I thought we had something too, until I realised _why_ you were with me." Kelly sighs, laying down her fork haphazardly on her tray. She waits for a moment, before Thane pushes it gently to sit at a right angle.

Frowning, she sits back on the metal bench, hands gripping the edge of the table. "It took me a while, but I figured it out. It's all part of your beliefs – a sense of duty – of _payment_ – for my help with Kolyat."

Thane sits in silence, the only movement the slight inflation and deflation of his throat.

"Kolyat was the one who made me realise. A funny story of when he was younger; one of the things he remembers is how his father taught him to always pay his debts. If that person said there was no payment, a true drell would figure out what the person needed and offer it."

Thane doesn't answer, leaning forward to fold his hands in front of his throat as he blinks.

"You had stopped doing that, you know." She can't help a wry smile as she points towards his hands. "I guess even with everything else, you did trust me, for a little while, stopped seeing me as a threat."

"I did." Thane murmurs, dropping his hands to his lap. His dual eyelids flicker back, revealing his pupils. "I do."

"I'd like to believe you still do, but I don't think you're even consciously aware of doing it." She shrugs, looking back to her plate as she fiddles with her folk. She can't look into his eyes, it's too hard when he exposes them like this. "You told me the hanar released you from service, but did you spend your free time with your wife and son? No, you ran away as fast as possible and kept assassinating – why?"

"I have told you this before. I knew no other way to live."

"Really?" Kelly lets out a small laugh, prodding at a brown lump on the edge of her plate. "That's your best excuse? In a choice between learning to change or being alone, you chose to be alone? Huh."

"Assassination is all I was taught since I was six." Thane's hands rise towards his throat again, knuckles white as he clasps them tightly.

"Yes, you've told me that before," Kelly rolls her eyes. "It's a well worn-out excuse now. You know, growing up my mommy taught me that turians were the big bad – they killed and raped and robbed, before, during _and_ after the first contact war. I grew up hating them, too, wanting to join the alliance to fight them. But when I got old enough to think for myself I realised that the hate was just that – hate. _I_ chose to take control of my life, and _I_ turned towards helping others, not fighting. That hate might have formed me, but I shaped myself around it, I didn't let it tell me who I am."

"It's not the same." Thane frowns.

"Perhaps it's not, not exactly." Kelly shrugs. "I just see you claiming to be a victim and doing nothing about it, as if you are still that passive six year old boy with no control of his own life." Thane opens his mouth to protest, but Kelly holds up a hand and stands. "Anyway, I've finished eating, so excuse me."

She really shouldn't take pleasure in the surprise on his face, but damn, after she found out how he'd been stringing her along, she has to be allowed to take some _small_ feeling of reward. Really, she is only acting as a counsellor, and if anyone on the Normandy needs help, it's Thane Krios

#

Kelly smiles as she hits send on the message to Kolyat. They're a long way from the Citadel, but she's looking forward to seeing him when they're next there. He's really grown on her, and – she likes to flatter herself – she's been good for him, too. Talking about his past has helped, he's more open about his mother now and keen on spending time getting to know his father. Annoyingly, he's also rather fixed on the idea of her dating his father.

Still, her smile picks up again, she did a good thing introducing him to Oriana, not that she'd ever admit it to Miranda. Apparently Oriana worships the ground Kolyat walks on. So sweet.

"Ahem," Hawthorne clears his throat as he stands up from his bunk and indicates the doorway behind her. "Time for me to go get some _popcorn_ I guess."

Kelly swivels in her seat to see Thane standing in the sleeping quarters doorway. "Funny Dwayne, real funny." She mutters to Hawthorne's retreating back.

"Kelly, I need to apologise," Thane barely waits for Hawthorne to have turned into the corridor before he's advancing towards her. "I am ashamed that it has taken me so long to realise it - I am an old man compared to you - but you are right. Your wisdom is impressive."

Thane kneels by her bunk, hands loose on his knee. He's not wearing a pistol, nor is he assessing the exits, Kelly notes with a raised eyebrow. But she refuses to make it easy for him; he _hurt_ her. She has forgiven many things in her life, but Thane's miscalculation still burns. "Apologise for what?"

"For the way I've treated you. For not listening to you." Thane takes one of her hands and squeezes it. "I have allowed myself to play the victim. First to the hanar, then to my illness. For most of my life, I have felt nothing, living one day after another as a blank canvas. Each assassination was a piece of art, and my body was an artist, while I, Thane, watched, powerless to stop it."

Kelly feels his thumb caress her fingers, the scales warm and smooth. It's hard for her to forget how those scales felt on her skin, when she thought he wanted her. Biting her lip, she resists the urge to pull away, trying to ignore the flush creeping up her cheeks.

"I have believed for a long time that I was fulfilled. Work, reading, occasional visits to my family." Thane sighs, his dual lids revealing his pupils once more. "It is only since I have spent time with you and Kolyat that I realise how much I have missed. Seeing him change and grow, spending time with my wife." Thane rubs her palm again.

"Thane," Kelly leans back, conscious of how close he is. "We've been here before. You felt gratitude, you felt that you had a debt to pay…"

"No." His voice is firm, his hairless brows descending. "This isn't gratitude, it isn't even loneliness. I… I like spending time with you, Kelly. These last few weeks, I have missed doing so. I… I have missed _you_."

She tries to pull her hand away, shaking her head, but he doesn't let go. "Please, Thane, not again…"

"I'm sorry." He lets go of her, but doesn't move away. "I know what I did was unforgivable, but I think that subconsciously I realised that I needed you. It's just my consciousness is a little slow, as you've so kindly pointed out." He smiles, plump lips looking delectable to her.

"I don't know if I can, not again." She tries to ignore him, but she can smell him, can remember how he tasted, and the strange headiness she always felt after kissing him. "Thane… Promise me you'll try to stop the counting, the obsessions."

For a moment, he's silent as he stares at the ground, and she wonders if it's too much. Can he break the habits of a lifetime? Needing his guns, finding his exits, using people as pawns. Then there's a flicker of life as he looks up, a smirk curling his lips.

"It will be hard to change the habits of a lifetime, but I promise you that I'll try. I would very much appreciate help, do you know of anyone who might be qualified?" he raises a brow, frills pulsating as he contains a laugh.

"Oh Thane," she presses a hand to her fluttering heart.

"Hello Miss Chambers," Thane holds out his hand, still on one knee. "I'm Thane Krios, pleased to meet you. I would very much like for us to go out on a date. Take things slowly – perhaps dinner? A vid? Though, hmm, not if Mordin chooses again. That Elcor version of Peace and War…" He shudders.

"War and Peace," Kelly feels a smile tugging her cheeks. "Start slowly? A _fresh_ start?"

"Whatever you need, Miss Chambers." Thane smiles as she takes his hand, pulling it close to gently brush his lips across it.

"Wait, did I miss all the fireworks?" Hawthorne blurts out from the doorway, a huge bag of popcorn in his hand.

"Thane, appropriate that popcorn, we have a vid to go and watch." Kelly points, unable to help the grin spreading across her face.

"As you wish," Thane nods, moving like a panther towards the startled crewman. "Always."

* * *

_The final part in the random Thane/Kelly trilogy! I don't know why they deserved a trilogy in the middle of the other Deleted Scenes – but they had one._


	26. Chapter 26 Creative Moments

**Creative Moments**

"I'm really not sure about this," Garrus rumbles as he shifts on the wobbly stool.

"Shush and sit still. Remember what I promised you after this is all over." Shepard doesn't even look at him, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates on the canvas in front of her.

"But, why _painting_? Surely a photo would be easier?" Garrus shifts again, the air in her cabin cool on his plates.

"I'm going to pretend I did _not_ hear that, you philistine." She pushes her hair back off her forehead, leaving a streak of bright blue paint on her temple, this time fixing him with a glare. "I like painting, always have. It's relaxing."

"Are your subjects always naked?" He stares longingly at the climate controls, wishing for just a degree or two higher.

"Well, yes, it's life art. The painting of anatomy is the point, and you're just so beautiful, I couldn't resist trying to capture you. Now sit back and shush Officer, we'll play later."

She's peering at the painting again, so he just shrugs, mandibles fluttering at her unthinking compliment. It's true, she's tempted him into sitting naked for a few hours with the promise of a long shower, a lotion massage and, well, all the fun things that come with along with that.

He purrs to himself, remembering the last time she spoiled him; massaging his feet, teasing his waist, eventually…

"Garrus, seriously. Do you have a one track mind or what? I don't remember asking to paint _that_."

Glancing down, he realises that his plates have shifted and he's suddenly a _lot_ more exposed than a minute ago. Damn.

#

Tali slips past Donnelly, heading deeper into the engine room. The area is only lit by the dull orange light blinking on her omni-tool – Kal Reegar's daily message, something she prefers to read alone, if possible.

Her heart flutters as she sits down on a crate, lifting the tool to open the message. She can't help her grin as she sees how long the message is. There was a time when the poor shy marine could barely get out anything beyond an 'all is well, see you soon'.

Now, they exchange stories of their youth, interesting things that have happened that day and end with brief, embarrassed 'miss you's'.

Hand over her heart, she's deep into his thrilling story of a group of raiders attacking a lost flotilla ship when she hears something move. Straightening up, she feels a rush of warmth, embarrassed in anticipation of being caught mooning.

But she can't see anyone nearby and she doesn't hear anything else. Curious, she holds her breath, waiting for the person to reveal themselves. Then, just as she's about to blame it on her overactive imagination, she hears it again, the harsh sound of metal scraping on metal.

Closing Kal's message, she scans for life forms, but nothing shows up. Following her impression of where the sound originated, she creeps towards it as noiselessly as she can. She's no Kasumi, but she's happy that her suit hasn't picked up any discernable noise as she reaches the dark edge of the room.

Just before she turns the corner, she freezes as she hears the noise again, louder, this time, and accompanying it is the shadow of a geth looming large on the wall in front of her. She pats her back for her shotgun, but it's not there; she's not dressed for combat, she's on the Normandy – she should be _safe_.

Has Legion finally shown its true purpose? Is it stalking her, its 'creator'? Tali feels her knees quiver as anger floods her veins. She _knew_ allowing it to remain was a stupid idea, why did she ever relax when there was a geth on board?

There's another scraping noise, and the shadow flickers on the wall. But the geth hasn't moved closer, it's still be in the same place as she'd first heard it. Ignoring her weaponless state, Tali pushes down on her fear and peers around the corner.

There, in front of her, is a sight she was most definitely _not_ expecting. Legion is hiding in the dark, and it is _dancing_ – legs stomping on the spot, arms waving as it jerkily attempts a move, head flaps lifting up and down in time to a beat only it can hear.

For a moment that seems to stretch into forever, Tali watches the AI dance its sad, juddering dance, before she slips away to try and figure out what it is she's seen.

#

"Will that needle even _work_ on a krogan's hide?" Donnelly asks, but Jack and Zaeed don't look up. Donnelly keeps watching them, the young woman slapping the mercenary's hand away occasionally, as they line up the inks.

"There," Zaeed straightens up with a sigh, rubbing one hand across his lower back. "That'll do for the design he chose."

"This is a big fucking sleeve man," Jack pokes Grunt in the arm, her other hand holding up a tattooing needle. "You sure you got the patience to do it the old school way? There are some booths on Illium…"

"Citadel too," Zaeed interrupts.

"Whatever." Jack dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "There's places where it's instantaneous. Y'know, if you're like some fucking _tourist_ and just want ink for fashion."

Donnelly covers his grin with a hand. Jack is such a manipulative bitch; it's one of the things he adores about her. When she's not trying it out on him, that is.

"I am no 'fucking tourist'." Grunt lowers his head, his blue eyes glaring at her. "When I asked you for a clan marking, I said I wanted it done traditionally. Like this. With pain."

"You asked for it buddy," Jack grins, pressing the tattoo needle against the young krogan's skin. "Holy fuck, this bitch is tough."

The machine makes a loud buzzing noise and a smile spreads across Grunt's face. "Ah yes, that is what I wanted. I can feel the needle tearing my skin, scarring my flesh. Glorious."

"You think the kid's got some goddamn perversion for pain?" Zaeed laughs, pulling a cigar out of his pocket. "Y'know what sick fucks krogans are."

"Mmm," Jack grins. "Had some of the best times with a krogan." She flicks a glance to Donnelly. "Well, and men _hung_ like krogans."

"Really Jack," Donnelly splutters as Zaeed bursts into laughter, and Donnelly knows _that_ story is going to be around the ship in minutes.

#

It's one of the things he's always loved about her, Jacob smiles to himself as he lies back on the bed. The way that as soon as she steps into the shower, Miranda turns into a show tunes diva.

The water is drowning out some of her singing, but he can hear enough to tell she's belting out an old classic from the salarian musical 'All The Way'. He's never heard her even humming a note outside of the shower, and she never comments on it, or allows him to bring it up. The one time he tried, she shot him down hard and fast and refused to speak to him for a week.

So he lies back on the bed with a smile on his face, letting his body dry naturally in the air as he closes his eyes and lets the melody drift over him.

#

Chakwas chews on a fingernail as she stares at her console.

_Dreams were pure bunkum. _

_And at that exact moment, Innocence Noble stumbled into one. Against one, more precisely. As her feet tangled, she staggered and he caught her, straightened her, bamboozled her with a flash of mischief in chocolate-brown eyes and a smile ripped straight from the sexiest vid hero. _

Chakwas glances up at Gardner; square jaw, deep brown eyes. Perfect.

_"You okay?" His voice was husky and deep._

_She nodded, her tongue ratcheted to the roof of her mouth as he held her, his hands warm, firm, solidly comforting where they gripped her upper arms. _

_"Good. Wouldn't want you falling at my feet." He was teasing her, dimples creasing his cheeks, bracketing that wicked smile, accentuating the laughter lines fanning from his eyes. Eyes that sparkled in jest yet hinted at something deeper, darker. Disappointments, loss, pain. _

_She could relate, could match him, could raise him a lost family, a lost childhood. "No chance of that." _

_"You sure?" _

_"Positive." _

_"Too bad." He squeezed her arms, released her and she mentally held up a big, fat L against her forehead as her body swayed toward him. "I kinda like the thought of a beautiful woman falling at my feet." _

She sighs, stuck and unsure how to progress. She doesn't want Innocence to jump into Rupert's arms (she can change the name later), but it's important for the reader to understand how _deep_ the attraction is. Chakwas isn't sure she's got her point across.

_Her lips curved into a smile of their own volition at his Earther accent, his exaggerated smile, while her inner vain girl - the one who never got to buy new clothes or preen in fancy shoes or go dancing with a handsome stranger until the wee hours - twirled and pranced with her arms overhead at his calling her beautiful. _

_This was crazy. Her love of films, her desire for adventure, was tainting a chance encounter. So what if the guy was vid-star handsome? So what if he was suave and charming? So what if he stared at her as if he'd discovered a new form of medi-gel? It meant nothing, a pleasant hiccup in an otherwise dull day. _

Better. Get the point across subtly, she smiles, tapping away at her console, unaware of the 'new form of medi-gel' stare that Mess Sergeant Gardener is sending her way.

#

Kelly shakes her ass again as the music blares through the ladies bathroom. She spins on the spot, her loose white shirt flapping as she shakes her head back and forth.

"Louder EDI!" She shouts, waving her hands in time with the beat.

EDI's soft voice is barely discernable above the music. "It's already two decibels above the recommended..."

"LOUDER!" Kelly screams, jiggling.

The volume rises a fraction, and she grabs a hairbrush and sings along as she slides across the tiles in her socks.

She can deal with Miranda's condescension, Jack's open verbal abuse and Thane's annoying OCD as long as the music keeps playing.

"C'mon EDI, keep it pumping..." Kelly laughs, jumping into the air and landing in the splits. "Louder!" She screams into the hairbrush.

#

"Confused as to the purpose..." Mordin lowers the implements again and peers at Samara where she's sitting opposite him. She's using the same kind of tools as she shared with him, her hands almost a blue blur as they duck and weave over each other.

"Fun," Samara smiles at him, her eyes soft. "Relaxation. Warmth, perhaps?"

Mordin touches the edge of the cap on his head and frowns. "Hmm, warm, yes. But the material? Unusual, not common synthetics used in clothing?"

"Plant fibres, spun into threads and then twisted into yarn." Samara holds up her creation, a long, stripy piece of fabric dangling off the ends of the tools. "There are many different patterns to make, shapes to create. I find it soothing."

"Soothing, hmm." The doctor purses his lips at the two instruments in front of him. They actually look more like something the STG would use for information extraction. He turns to face a nearby mirror and wiggles his head. "Still unsure about purpose of bobble?"

Samara's laugh makes him turn to face her again, it's so rare and yet so beautiful. He beams back, still waggling his head as her eyes dance. She reaches up and strokes his cheek, his eyes fluttering at her cool hand.

"Trust me," she murmurs. "The bobble is the most adorable part. I love it."

Mordin lowers the tools (knitting needles he now remembers they're called) and leans into her touch, suddenly not minding that he doesn't understand the activity in the slightest, as long as it's making Samara happy.


	27. Chapter 27 Never Go Home Again

_Sorry for the delay. Between being away on holiday and then catching up at work post-holiday, it took a while to get this finished. Phew!_

* * *

**Never Go Home Again**

Garrus snorts a laugh, trying not to choke as he slurps up his breakfast slop. Opposite him, Kaidan is leaning back, gesticulating his way through an anecdote of his first time in Chora's Den and his surprise at just how human asari look 'close up'.

Widening his mandibles at the human's husky laughter and lewd hand movements, Garrus catches a scent in the air and turns his head towards the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Gardner turn to look, the male's mouth dropping open.

Shepard makes her way towards the table, clad in a skin-tight anti-radiation bodysuit, her face shiny with anti-rad cream. Unusually for the marine, and in direct contrast with the protective gear, she's wearing make-up and her hair looks styled. That, combined with the wet-look black suit has every eye in the room out on stalks.

"Interesting outfit, Jane. That suit almost looks painted on, I like it," Garrus purrs, pushing his mostly-empty bowl away and reaching out with his hand to pull her closer.

Shepard dodges away, eyebrow raised. "Says the man still wearing the same cracked and battered armour I found him in."

"You said you _like_ this colour blue." Garrus places his talons on his chest, pulling his mandibles close to fake sadness.

"The colour is gorgeous," Shepard smiles, one hand caressing his scarred cheek. "It's the scorch marks, holes and lack of decent protection I object to."

"I'm surprised you aren't in full armour yourself." Kaidan glances between Garrus and Shepard, seemingly unable to control his grin as he clasps his hands behind his head. "Meeting the in-laws for the first time. That's got to be explosive."

Before Garrus has a chance to explain that's _not_ why they're visiting Palaven, Shepard rounds on her ex, a wicked smile on her face, and her hands braced on her hips.

"Like your date last night with Kasumi?" She crows, grabbing Garrus' hand and pulling him up and away, turning her head to fire a parting shot over her shoulder. "Ship scuttlebutt tells me that was about as _explosive_ as it gets, tiger."

Garrus finds himself being towed towards the elevator, but manages to glance over his shoulder at Kaidan's shocked expression and blushing cheeks.

"Kasumi? Really?" Garrus asks as soon as the elevator doors close.

Shepard leans against his side, body shaking with laughter. "Did you see his face? I had no idea it was true, I just overheard Kelly and Tali gossiping earlier. It seems that Miranda got wind of Jacob 'playing pazzak' with Kasumi and hit the roof, so our thief has moved on to the next buff bloke on board. Didn't give Kaidan much choice, apparently. Pounced on him."

"Huh," Garrus follows Shepard through the CIC towards the airlock.

"I know!" Shepard turns to wiggle her eyebrows at him, her face beaming. "Poor guy, he's so earnest and honourable, she'll eat him alive."

Garrus stops just outside the airlock door and leans closer to Shepard, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her closer. "Mmm that doesn't sound so bad. I love it when you eat _me_ alive."

There's silence for a second as Shepard leans towards him, her eyes fluttering closed – then the cockpit erupts with the sound of hysterical laughter, almost drowning out EDI's soft tones asking for an explanation of the joke.

"I think it might be time to go," Shepard pushes him into the airlock, shaking her head, her cheeks flaming as red as her lips.

Garrus nods, hitting the compression controls, and dreading the ribbing he knows he's going to face from the pilot when he returns.

#

Shepard's trying not to gawp like a tourist, but it's so amazing to see the place Garrus grew up. The Palaven district on the Citadel is interesting, but it's nothing like being on the planet itself.

It's like a human's idea of paradise – hot, (but a dry heat), palm trees, blue sky and on the horizon the endless curved vista of the ocean. Tall, with plain walls and simple darkened glass windows, the structures are a perfect example of functionality over form. Monstrous primordial trees and ferns that tower between the structures, evidence of the planet's heightened radiation levels. The streets themselves reflect the militaristic culture, laid out in perfectly uniform rectangular grids, named and numbered for easy navigation.

"I've never known you so quiet before," Garrus teases as he walks beside her.

"You've never seen me so fascinated before," she doesn't even look at him as she stops to peer at a giant purple flower, larger than her head. The scent is intoxicating, the colour glorious, the outer petals glinting with a metallic sheen in the sunlight. "Everything here is so _big_, look at those trees, these flowers..."

"Hey, that's not why _I'm_ big," Garrus widens his mandibles at her, his voice low, almost purring as he whispers in her ear.

Laughing, she pushes him away, conscious of being on display as the tourist human, without the added complications of public displays of affection. A few of the younger turians hanging on the street corner are staring at her, but she ignores their glares and turns away. No one has commented on them being together, yet, but they've been careful not to touch too often or look like a couple.

"Anyway, let's head out to..." Shepard stops speaking, her mouth dropping open as an elderly turian male walks past, a huge six-foot-long lizard walking at his side. It reminds her of images she'd loved as a child – strange, plated dinosaurs with spikes and spines and scales. "Even the _pets_ are huge," she breathes.

"That's a _baby_ minmi." Garrus shrugs. "Herbivore, make great pets. I always wanted one. It'll grow twice that size, easy."

She knows some of the locals are laughing at the stupid tourist, but she can't help gawking. It's like a creature out of an old vid – it has a tiny head, long, sweeping tail and is covered in bony protrusions.

"_That's_ a baby? I hate to think how scary the adult is." Shepard whistles, shaking her head as the old turian turns a corner, his pet minmi following.

"You think that's scary?" Garrus chuckles, a melodious sound. "Wait till you see the Palaven equivalent of mosquitoes."

She swivels to face him, her mouth dropping open. She can see him shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"All insects need to bite through our plate, remember? You should see the jaws on the things."

"That's it," she shudders, looking for the nearest building to dive into. "This body-suit isn't coming off."

"Are you sure?" Garrus leans close, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Not even in the radiation-proof, air conditioned honeymoon suite I booked for tonight?"

"Are you kidding?" She leans closer, ignoring the hisses of disapproval. "That might be the _only_ way you'd get me naked this weekend."

"Good." He grins, stepping backwards, his eyes flicking towards the watching crowds. "C'mon, let's get to the marketplace. The hotels near there and it's less…" Her translator hums for a moment, "provincial".

An older turian walks past, with a young male trailing behind him, head down. It reminds her of one of her worries about visiting Palaven. "Are you _sure_ we won't bump into your father?"

Garrus laughs, shaking his head in a very human way. "My father? In this heat? No, no, too many years on the climate controlled Citadel has ensured he never visits home in the summer any more. Stop worrying."

Nodding, she trails behind, walking slowly past a military training ground. Male and female turians parade in full armour – marching to a military beat as an old female instructor barks out commands.

Shepard jogs to catch up with Garrus, nodding towards the base just before they turn off the street. "I like her."

"Hah," he huffs. "You say that now. Try spending six months of your youth with her saying when you can eat, sleep or shi…"

"I get the idea, thanks. Had a drill sergeant a bit like that myself." Shepard nudges him in the ribs, eyeing the signs that are springing up all around as they enter the market. Enormous, expensive shops that look like huge brand names, but she's never heard of any of them. The buildings themselves look older; more ornate curves with huge blue domes, a slender turret rising from each corner.

"These buildings are gorgeous." She leans back, looking up at the paintings on the sides of some of them. Stepping closer, she realises it's not paint, but a combination of metals and gems inlaid into the white stone. "This reminds me of one of the wonders of the earth. Can't remember what it's called, Mahal something, but… wow."

"Yeah, we might have progressed but our architecture hasn't improved. I much prefer these buildings to the plain modern ones." Garrus tugs her hand, pulling her towards a shaded courtyard. "I always liked the entrance to this building."

All around, tiny blue birds fly in pairs above their heads. Swooping together, they land next to each other, singing softly.

"They're beautiful," Shepard gazes upwards at the brightly coloured birds.

"Those are pavela. I love listening to them." Garrus strokes a hand up her shoulder, pulling her into his arms to press his forehead against her for a second. "Like most, ah, animals on Palaven, they mate for life. You always see them together like this, fighting, feeding; they do everything together."

Shepard is distracted as she notices a sweeping piece of art that circles the whole courtyard. Carved, stylised images depict the turians' evolution from a single cell to the sentient beings they are today. There are dates below each stage, but she can't understand the turian numerical system, or the written words explaining the time differences between the year.

Pacing around the edge, she marvels at how quickly life evolved on Palaven. Perhaps the radiation helped speed it up, but it seems so much faster than on earth, with the many different dinosaur ages. Perhaps sentience appeared when the birds and reptiles were still the dominant species, without the same catastrophe that earth suffered.

Still thinking of dinosaurs, she stops in front of a familiar shape – bony body, rudimentary wings and the face of a raptor. "That looks so much like an archaeopteryx. Wow."

She grins at Garrus, marvelling at how evolution slipped down a different track here.

He shrugs, still watching the bird flying above. "It's not that accurate, it's just pretty art."

"Well," she moves closer to him, mostly hidden from the nosy locals by the enclosed courtyard, "I like the idea that we're closer than I ever realised." She strokes his cheek, smiling as he leans into her touch.

There's a loud hiss from behind her and she jumps, hand automatically dropping to where she stores her assault rifle, but she's not wearing it.

A female is standing at the entrance to one of the buildings, a clutch of young turians behind her. She's braced, as if ready to fight, her arms outstretched to keep the youngsters behind her.

But it's the children that hold Shepard's attention. She's never seen a young turian before – not even on the Citadel – and they're utterly adorable. Softer looking, with dull plates and wide eyes, even their fringes are stubby and underdeveloped.

As she looks, one of them tugs on the female turian's skirt and chirps a question. Her translator struggles, but the youngsters soft, peeping voice doesn't seem to convert. The female continues hissing, her hand dropping protectively to the youngster's head.

"Hello, I'm –" Shepard feels herself almost pulled off her feet as Garrus shifts her away from the children. "Garrus, wha…?"

"I know you meant well," he murmurs in her ear, stopping and letting her go as they reach the street. "But that female would've kicked your ass so hard if you'd tried to talk to those kids."

"I don't see why," Shepard folds her arms and glares across the marketplace, her cheeks warm. "I was only being friendly."

"Yeah I know," he rubs her shoulder through the thin bodysuit. "But the Relay 314 incident isn't that long ago for some people."

She's only half listening to Garrus trying to placate her, annoyed at the reaction of the turian female, but really more annoyed at her own stupidity, when she's distracted by the sight of an old turian charging towards them.

"Garrus," her voice is low, warning him of a problem as she instinctively reaches for the gun that isn't there. "Damn it."

Garrus has tensed, his eyes scanning the crowd as the older turian leaps towards him. Garrus staggers backwards, as the old turian wraps his arms around his torso.

"Dad?" She hears Garrus gasp.

Shepard takes a step back, eyeing the male with the seeming death-grip on her lover. He does look like Garrus, with similar plating and markings – perhaps a little faded and dull compared to his son. The skin around his eyes is drier, tougher, but the clan markings on his face are the same. It's the faded C-Sec uniform that clinches it.

"My boy," Garrus' dad rumbles, his voice deeper than his son's, the flanging even more pronounced. He steps back, bracing his hands on Garrus' shoulders as he examines the scarring on his son's cheek. "I heard the reports on the mercs taking down Archangel. I've thought you were dead for the longest time. Why didn't you contact me?"

Garrus opens his mouth, but stays silent, mandibles fluttering, blinking rapidly.

"How did you know that Garrus was Archangel, Mr Vakarian?" Shepard steps to Garrus' side, trying to show him her support.

The older turian drops his hands from Garrus' shoulders and turns his faded-blue hawk-eyes to her, his mandibles tight and angry. He looks her up and down, sniffing, before glancing at his son, then back at her, all without saying as word.

"You think I'm a good investigator," Garrus suddenly breaks the uncomfortable silence. "What did you call me? Manbat?"

Shepard represses her urge to roll her eyes at him. Now is not the time. "Batman…"

"Well, my dad taught me everything I know." Garrus' mandibles flutter making his smile look forced. "He could probably tell you exactly what I did on Omega, with times and dates for each operation." Garrus lifts a hand and waves it between them. "Dad, this is Jane, Jane, my father."

"Jane." Those faded blue eyes piece her again. "Jane Shepard?"

"That's me, sir." Shepard nods, not breaking eye contact from his fierce stare.

He pulls his mandibles even tighter, looking between her and Garrus, blinking slowly. "Well –"

"Dad, don't start." Garrus interrupts, holding up a hand.

"I'm not starting anything, Garru-chin," the older turian's voice sounds mild, but his bleak expression gives away his real feelings. "I was trying to offer to buy you both tea, perhaps some food. Maybe you can explain how you got those new scars."

Shepard doesn't know what she was expecting from the senior Vakarian, but it wasn't a seemingly innocuous invitation to lunch. They walk across the crowded market in silence, but partway across, Garrus takes her hand and squeezes it. Shepard notices Mr Vakarian tilt his head at them, but the older turian looks away without commenting. Shepard squeezes back, ignoring the odd outraged hiss from other turians at their intimacy.

After a couple of minutes of walking through the gridded streets, the elder Vakarian points to a shop doorway.

"It's still open? Really?" Garrus drops her hand to push the door open, a childlike exuberance in his voice as he dives inside.

His father holds up his hand, indicating that she go ahead. "We used to stop in here after school when he was a young –" her translator glitches over the last term. "Every day the same order."

"Kala berry cake, they still make it!" Garrus' voice drifts towards them as Shepard's eyes adjust from the bright sunlight to the more dimly lit café.

A few small circular tables are scattered about the room, decorated in the now familiar Palaven blues and greys. The place is almost full, with Garrus standing next to the one empty table by the front window. Shepard winces at the thought of being on display to the curious passersby.

Garrus sits in one of the strangely shaped chairs – crafted to allow for turian leg spurs – and pats the seat next to him. Smiling, Shepard sits, noting that Garrus' father takes the seat directly opposite his son.

"I was worried, when you disappeared on Omega," the elder turian begins, his mild voice still a contrast to his furious glare. He waves a talon at her. "Now I can see why you left."

"I'm surprised you know so much about me, but you hadn't heard that Shepard was back," Garrus shrugs, deflecting the question well, Shepard thinks.

His father turns slightly to glare at her, his breathing speeding up as he pulls his mandibles even tighter. "After the reports about your, ah, _Archangel's_ death, well, they ah, asked me to not visit C-Sec for a while. Indefinite leave of absence. I've been a little, mm, incommunicado from real info for a couple of months. That's why I'm here." He looks out of the window, his chest heaving underneath his shirt.

Shepard stays quiet, sliding one hand under the table to stroke Garrus' leg. He glances at her with a tiny smile, but looks back at his father. Any other time, with any other person, Shepard would dive in feet first, steering the conversation using part brute force, part charm. But this _isn't_ Miranda's father trying to kidnap her sister, or Jacob's father abusing the women under his commander – this is _Garrus'_ father – shocked and upset, as he'd obviously thought his son dead, and said son had done nothing to tell him any different.

Some things are worth butting into, and some are worth leaving well alone. She trusts Garrus, even with all his romantic fumblings, to be able to work this out on his own. He has to.

Shepard watches a waiter approach them, obviously thrilled to be serving the exotic tourist. Their table is noisy again for a few minutes as they order – Shepard sticking to filtered, human-safe water, while Garrus orders his favourite dessert.

The waiter hovers for a moment longer, until Garrus places a credit chip on his pad, stating firmly that he'll pay.

"I told them you weren't dead," his father speaks again, his expression softer than before. "I had C-Sec agents hunting for any sign of you. There were news reports of her, the spectre, but you know those papers, there's never anything true in them. Still, I checked the dates they mentioned, but they never correlated with any actual facts. Then the head of C-Sec got wind of my investigations and claimed it was a personal use of citadel resources and gave me a leave of absence."

Garrus looks down, "I'm sorry. I thought… after we argued again just before I left for Omega, I thought you didn't care what I did."

His father growls, deep in his chest. It's quiet, so as not to attract attention, but it's a furious noise. "Of _course_ I care. You're my only son." He clutches the edge of the table, talons digging in. "We might not agree on everything –" he glances across at Shepard, "but I care that you're _alive_. Not a forgotten _corpse_ rotting on Omega."

"I didn't think," Garrus rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I was so sure you were angry at my leaving C-Sec again, disappointed in my choices. I… I thought you didn't want to speak to me."

Shepard watches at the older turian takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "Perhaps there was a time I wanted you to stay in C-Sec, follow in my footsteps. I can't lie and say I'd have chosen where you are, but son, how could I be disappointed? You _saved_ the galaxy from that spectre."

"He's saved it twice, now, actually." Shepard can't help but murmur.

Garrus' dad doesn't seem to appreciate her contribution, rumbling low in his chest again.

"It's true." Garrus shrugs. "But it's a long story."

The older Vakarian switches his glare back to the younger, the rumble continuing. It's only the arrival of the waiter with their order that causes the older man to fall silent again.

Shepard looks at the steaming tea, and the tense expressions of the two males. She forces her best smile and pats Garrus' hand. "I've changed my mind, let me go grab some food." She flicks her gaze to his father for a brief moment. "I might be a few minutes. Okay?"

For the first time since she's met him, Shepard notices the older Vakarian's mandibles loosening. "Thank you," he mumbles.

Shepard nods, patting Garrus' hand one last time before moving out of earshot towards the food counter. Keeping the smile pasted on her face, she browses the strange food, politely declining the repeated offers of help. She peeks at the two Vakarians, who look like they're arguing - waving their hands and leaning over the table.

Turning back to the counter, she moves to where the levo food is stored. There's actually some nice looking cakes, but her stomach is churning too much to eat. Not worry for herself, but for Garrus.

A glance back to the table reveals Garrus hanging his head, his mandibles drooping. Not a good sign. But as she watches, his father leans closer, saying something. Garrus looks up, tilting his head as he listens. After a few more back-and-forths, both turians lean back in their seats, mandibles wide.

Shepard sighs, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosening. She leans a hip on the counter and smiles to herself. She's pleased that they seem to be talking amiably now, with less hand waving and more relaxed postures.

After a few more minutes, Garrus looks up and beckons to her. She heads back to the table and pats her belly as she sits down. "Sadly, I don't think there is much that wouldn't make me sick. A shame, as the cakes look delicious."

"What is a shame is that you can't eat my dad's cooking, he's a brilliant cook."

Mr Vakarian huffs. "I can make human food."

Garrus stares at his father, mandibles fluttering in surprise.

"What?" The older turian rolls his shoulder in what Shepard recognises as a turian shrug. "I live on the citadel. I've got human friends."

"Well, that sounds good to me." Shepard smiles, patting her pocket absently to check for her allergy medication.

"Good," Garrus' father widens his mandibles at her, his faded eyes looking less predatory. "It's settled. You two can come to dinner tonight. I think I want to get to know this woman who's made my son run off from duty twice now."

"Dad…" Garrus rubs his forehead with a talon.

"Perhaps you'd like to see some photos of him as a clutchling?" The older turian keeps speaking, ignoring his son's distress. "Baby photos, I think you say. This is traditional for humans, yes?"

Shepard grins, partly at the idea, partly at the expression of horror on Garrus' face. "I'd like that, Mr Vakarian." She nudges Garrus. "What's wrong? I'm sure you looked adorable."

Garrus shakes his head, sighing. "I knew bumping into my dad might be a bad idea. But I never suspected it could get as bad as _clutchling_ photos …"

Someone knocks on the window and peers in at them, hands splayed either side of their face as they stare at Garrus.

"It's your cousin, Neno. You've not seen him in over five years – go chat. I'll look after your commander."

Garrus squeezes her hand, worry in his voice. "That okay?" He glances at his father, then back at her.

She nods, smiling, about to answer when his father beats her to it. "We'll be fine, I can tell her stories of your youth. When you got your first tooth. That time you fell and broke your cowl."

Garrus growls softly as his father laughs, but he stands, brushing her forehead with his hard lips as he does so. She watches him run outside, tackling his cousin and grappling him to the floor in greeting.

Garrus' father clears his throat, so she drags her attention back to the room and looks at the older turian sitting opposite her.

"So…" he raises his hands, then drops them to the table.

"So…" she echoes, unwilling to guess where the conversation is heading now that they're alone.

Mr Vakarian tilts his head, leaning forward slightly. "You're a spectre."

"Yup." Shepard keeps the smile pasted on her face as she nods.

"You break laws." It's a statement, not a question.

"Not if I can help it." It's true. There are times she's been tempted, but after Saren, she's seen what unbridled power can do to a person.

The older turian nods for a moment, before trying again. "You died?"

"I got better." She shrugs, not looking away from him.

"When you died, I thought I'd lost my son." His shoulders sag. "It's like he died, as well, inside. That's why he went to Omega."

"I never wanted that for him." Shepard shakes her head, wanting to reach out to touch his hand, but unsure how he'd take it. "I wanted for Garrus to re-join C-Sec, maybe meet a turian girl, have his own life."

"But he didn't." His voice sounds almost accusing.

"No. He didn't." She clenches her fists under the table, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Then you saved him on Omega. Archangel was trapped, I'd received a report about the problem, but the Citadel was too far to do anything." His father clutches the edge of the table, the metal creaking under his grip.

"I was lucky, got there on time, I, uh…" Shepard trails off, remembering how close it had been. The merc groups, the gunship, Garrus' hot blood pooling at her feet.

"Thank you." His father reaches across the table and takes her hand. "Thank you, Shepard."

Trying to swallow past the lump in her throat, she gives him her first _genuine_ smile. "I will _always_ be there for your son."

"Yes, I noticed that." He releases her hand and looks down. "Is that why he went with you, the first time? Even back then?"

She shakes her head. "No, we've only realised fairly recently."

"I see." Mr Vakrian looks out of the window and drops into silence. She follows his gaze, watching Garrus laughing and smiling as he talks to his cousin. Relaxed, playful – it's rare to see him so happy.

"He's my only son." The statement drags her away from her thoughts, bringing her back to the older turian who is now staring at her again.

"Yes, he is." She holds her head high, staring back. "So I'm sure you'll want him to be happy."

"Happy?" He snorts. "That's a very human desire for your offspring. Productive, useful, integrated." He pauses, blinking rapidly. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm too old fashioned. I've heard said that the younger generation aren't following the traditions so strictly anymore." He sighs, then shrugs. "And I suppose he has saved the universe. Twice."

She laughs. "That he has."

Garrus bursts back into the café and charges over to their table, panting slightly after tussling with his cousin. "Want to go riding tomorrow in the hills with Neno? It's fun, not hard to learn and you can meet my cousin. He's almost as good a shot as me." His eyes are pleading and she tries not to laugh at how he's regressed back to being a kid around his family.

"Sounds fun," she grins.

"Good," Garrus murmurs, leaning close to press his forehead against hers. "I want you to meet _all_ my family."

She closes her eyes, leaning into his gesture for a few seconds, enjoying the feel of his rough skin, the heat of his forehead.

"Back in five," he rumbles as she opens her eyes.

Nodding, she watches him leave again.

"I hadn't realised that it was so serious between you two." Mr Vakarian sounds quiet as he speaks. "I thought it might have been a fad." He huffs once, his mandibles fluttering.

"Serious?" Shepard bites her lower lip. "Well, it's been a few months, but yeah, we care–"

His father shakes his head, gesturing to his forehead. "Garrus never told you what that means?"

"That...?" She presses a hand to her brow. "Oh, well, yes. He said it was a turian kiss."

Garrus' father eyes her, blinking rapidly before sighing. "I'm glad we're meeting for dinner tonight. It seems like we'll be spending more time together than I realised."

"Why?" Shepard rubs her forehead unconsciously, trying to follow the older turian's logic.

"I'll let my stupid, impulsive son explain exactly what it means himself." The older turian stands, holding out a hand to help her up. "Let me just say, because of that gesture, you're officially a member of the Vakarian clan, so it's a good job that I _do_ know how to cook human food."

Part of the clan? Confused, she follows Garrus' father outside into the bright sunshine. He goes to speak to his nephew, and she pauses in the doorway as a twittering pair of pavela birds fly above her head, looping in circles around each other. They stop on the edge of a nearby roof, chirping, to press their foreheads together, before flying off once more.

What had Garrus said? Most animals on Palaven mate for life. And now his father says that she's joined the Vakarian clan?

"Oh," she touches her forehead again. "_Oh_ I see."

"Jane, c'mon!" Garrus shouts and gestures for her to come closer. She hesitates for a moment, heart thudding as she tries to think. They've not even talked about love, or the future, or anything beyond fighting the reapers at some point. While she's never wanted kids – she's a soldier, no time for that – is _this_ what she wants?

Garrus huffs impatiently, wiggling his fingers, his blue eyes shining, and she knows without a shadow of a doubt that she'll never want anyone else at her six, that whatever else might be wrong in the universe, their relationship is perfectly right.

"I'm here, Garrus, I'm here," she grabs his hand, laughing as he pulls her to his side. Poking him in the ribs, she smiles up at him, "if you need me."

* * *

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_Major thanks go to **Zephyr5 **for her relentless betaing – she's spotted tonnes of stupid errors in exchange for me distracting her from writing her own fic by getting her hooked onto new games every few weeks. (All good games though, right?)_

_And thanks to all of you for reading and especially to those of you reviewing and letting me know what works and what doesn't. It's exactly why I write this stuff – so thank you._

_*Waits impatiently for ME3*_


End file.
